Second Loves, Second Chances
by Ron and his Sakura
Summary: Both Eries and Dryden have suffered the heartbreak of unrequited love. But when they're finally able to let go of their first loves, what will fate have in store for them? Post series fic inspired by Aerika S's Always and Secret Life of a Girl
1. Endings

Suffice to say, I don't own any these characters. The Escaflowne characters belong to Bandai or whoever it is that owns the anime. As for the background and certain original characters, those are the property of Aerika S who has given me her expressed e-mail consent to do something with them. Previous knowledge of her works "The Secret Life of a Girl" and "Always" are not necessary for the enjoyment of this piece of fiction, but it is encouraged because it will offer a better perspective of the characters, and besides her writing is really terrific.

Second Loves, Second Chances

posted June 2007

"... and then we have the schedules and final statements, the shadowgraphs, and then I think... I think that's it, Princess Eries."

"Wonderful, Celena," I say, penciling in a few final notes. "And it looks like we managed to finish in the nick of time. We're already at the main bazaar."

From the carriage windows, the familiar sights of Palas blur past. I smile. "Well, as much as I enjoyed being away from here, there's something to the saying, 'There's no place like home.'"

Indeed, the capital is a sight for sore eyes after several weeks of inspecting Asturia's border settlements. Nearly two years after the conclusion of the Great Gaia War, Asturia, like most of the other battleground countries, still bears scars from the fighting. However, the kingdom has progressed rapidly in rebuilding. It's a matter of national pride after all. Since the declaration of peace, the majority of the Council's man-hours have been devoted to all manner of projects and capital improvements to restore the country to its former glory. I have taken the lead on several major projects along our borders, and now that they are nearing completion, one of the few perks of the near-thankless job of being primary sponsor is getting to inspect the work.

The last month and a half have been hectic, and life on the road scarcely compares with the luxuries and conveniences of palace life, but I hardly minded. The last time I traveled out of the capital like this was years ago, and it's been refreshing to escape the City of Intrigue. Not to mention, being able to see for myself the new schools and libraries I managed to slide in as part of the reconstruction packages actually standing solid and tall is quite gratifying.

But I've been gone long enough, and it's good to be home.

Celena scowls. "You can say what you like about coming home, but I'd rather be back in Fort Castelo with all the mosquitoes than back here. Especially if I could ditch SOMEBODY." Her eyes roll expressively in the direction of a blue and gold clad figure seated on the driver's box.

"Celena, Allen's been traveling on the open road with his only sister and a friend who happens to be a member of the royal family. I think you can understand him -- taking precautions."

"Humph. The only way he'd possibly be any more cautious is if he had the Crusade hovering over us and Scheherazade stomping beside us."

"But he did let you come along on this trip. He could very well have fordidden you from going at all."

"Yeah, I guess." She's not much mollified by my words.

Despite my attempt to persuade her to think otherwise, I do empathize with the younger girl. To say Allen is overprotective is a huge understatement, but it's understandable considering their tumultuous past. However, for the energetic 17-year-old that Celena is, such treatment is suffocating, which is why I requested her presence on this journey in the first place. Ostensibly, she's acting as my assistant. And while she has proved herself quite adept at the role over the duration of the trip, the real reason for bringing her was to provide her with a change of pace. Much as she loves her brother, she chafes against the protective hedge he's surrounded her with. She's too restless to be the proper young noblewoman Allen's trying to mold her into, and anyone around Celena for any length of time inevitably gets an earful about the boring and futile existence she's forced to endure in the name of her own good. I've heard it so many times, I can recite her rant by heart. So when this trip came up, I figured I could at least give her the chance to get out of their estate, out of her routine, and out of her Palas monotony.

If it had been anyone else asking for his little sister to come along on a cross-country journey, Allen would not have even considered it. However, he could hardly refuse a request from his princess and one of his closest friends. The key condition though was that he wanted charge of security for our entourage. I agreed readily. We needed someone to do it anyway, and Allen as Knight Caeli more than qualified for the job. Celena though was less than thrilled with the arrangement.

"He didn't have to make such a fuss at Caliper though," Celena sniffs. "All that stable master did was open the carriage door and wish me a good morning, and Brother practically shoves a sword down his throat! I could've just died of embarrassment right there!! I mean, what was he going to do? Threaten me with a riding crop?" An exasperated huff escapes her lips to puff up against her bangs.

From what I recall, that stable master had been a not unattractive man in his late 20s, who, while courteous and friendly, let his gaze linger a bit too long and a bit too appreciatively on the young Miss Schezar. As for the morning greeting in question, I would interpret his interchange with Celena more as flirtatious banter than a mundane exchange of good mornings.

I sigh. It's part of Allen's job to use his best judgment to protect me, but it's entirely up to the two siblings to work out what qualifies a threat to Celena and what doesn't. I know better than to take sides. Fortunately, the carriage is rolling into the palace driveway so I'm saved the trouble of finding a way to coax Celena out of her sulk without saying something that might potentially upset either Schezar sibling.

We slow to a halt before the main palace entrance. Allen alights from his seat beside our driver to help us down. However, one of his colleagues from the Order beats him to it.

"Welcome back, Princess Eries." Sir Dashir Revius opens the carriage door and extends a hand to me.

"Well, this is a surprise," I say, accepting the proffered hand and stepping out of the carriage. "I didn't think you'd be the one heading the welcome wagon."

"I'd like to say that it's because I missed all of you so much and things haven't been the same with you gone," he replies wryly. "But it's because the King gave me specific orders to escort you to see him as soon as you arrived."

It must be important if Father is having the captain of the palace guards hanging around the front door to wait for me. However, nothing about the palace atmosphere or even Revius indicates any kind of emergency. "Did he say what it was about?"

"Can't say, Princess," he says although the smirk on his face indicates otherwise. "Just that it was private. And urgent."

Right. I turn to the Schezar siblings to give final instructions. "Allen, consider yourself off duty once the carriage is taken care of. Celena be ready to go over that report with Lord Poniard. Understood?" Allen responds in the affirmative, and Celena, though she's positively burning to ask what the "private" matter could possibly be, does the same. "Good. I'll see you both tomorrow. Sir Revius, if you would be so kind as to lead the way."

Revius keeps a respectable distance as we make our way through the bustling main areas of the palace. However, once we reach the more secluded upper floors, I close the gap between us. Revius is a close friend of mine, and an old one, too -- I've known him for nearly a decade now. The formalities we exhibit in public are necessitated by our respective ranks, but in a near deserted corridor with only the occasional handmaiden passing by, we can relax those restrictions a bit. "So, care to tell me what's going on?"

"Whatever makes you think I know something, Princess?" he teases.

A swift kick to the shin tells him exactly what I think. Revius protests, "Hey! Such behavior is hardly befitting a princess."

"Whatever. Just spill it already, Revius. Don't make me turn it into an order," I growl, angling my shoe towards his other leg.

"As you wish, my Highness, the beautiful, esteemed, and violent Princess," he says, dodging my next kick. "Let's just say that your inspection tour must've inspired other members of your family to thoughts of travel as well because Her Pinkness has left the castle."

Revius' particular epithet for my sister is more or less accurate considering the dominating hue of her wardrobe. However, as a sister and a princess, I can hardly condone it. Still, I let it slide this time because it's more important to pull information out of him than to give him a lecture.

"Left? Where did she go?"

"Chezario. Some hospital there's starting a medical school at Trevie, and that's where she went."

"Oh. So she went to consult with doctors about new treatments for Father?" I guess that's why Father wants to see me. Millerna tends to get overly excited about "new advances in experimental medical technology," and Father likes to get my opinion before deciding whether or not to submit to the latest, trendiest therapy that's caught her eye.

"I didn't say that."

I'm ready to take another shot at Revius' shin at this point. "So what ARE you saying then?"

"That maybe, maybe there's just a little chance that her trip has less to do with her father than it has to do with the other man in her life."

No sooner has he uttered that than I'm anticipating his next words and hoping I'm wrong.

"You know how the repairs on the church complex are nearly finished?" he says, somehow managing to sound airy even in a rushed, hushed voice. "Well, at their last meeting, the Council made the final approvals for the last bits of work. Being the forward thinking people they are, they start talking about its reopening and all the ceremonial brouhahas to go with it. Anyway, Meiden makes this not-so-subtle suggestion that the most auspicious symbolic thing that they can do to make the shindig a success and wash out the bad taste Zaibach left by blowing the old building apart is to have Dryden and Millerna do a renewal of vows. Millerna just so happened to be in the room at the moment, and from what I heard, Her Highness practically had a panic attack."

"And you heard about this how?" I ask skeptically. Revius may be a Knight Caeli but that hardly means he's privy to what takes place behind the Council's meeting room doors.

"You know Giselle, that really good-looking redhead with the freckles that works in the kitchen? She got it from her roommate who is best friends with the sister of the wife of one of the doctors attending Aston during that meeting."

R-i-i-ight. With sources like that, how could I possibly doubt him?

Despite Revius' less than conventional channels of information, he's probably not too far off the mark. Meiden was rather heavy-handed in cutting short Dryden's voyage of self betterment and steering him back into the capital; but once his son was back, he had taken a hands off approach, trusting in proximity and his son's good qualities to turn Dryden's and Millerna's marriage on paper into one in practice. Three seasons later, husband and wife are still occupying separate bedroom suites and Millerna as jumpy around Dryden as ever. I'm actually surprised Meiden did not make a move sooner.

"Anyway," Revius goes on, "things got ree-a-l-ly tense and awkward between the happy married couple after that. Next thing you know, her bags are packed, and she's boarding a leviship bound out of the country. She's been gone four days now."

My heart sinks. I'd always been so sure that given time Millerna would come to love Dryden, the way Marlene had come to love Mahad. But as much as she said she accepted him, emotionally she had not, and the strain was obvious even to the most oblivious. She never shirked her public duties as wife since his homecoming, but whenever they were together, the atmosphere was tenuous at best, downright nerve-racking at worst. Her doubts and indecisiveness made Dryden try harder to please her, which unfortunately made her withdraw further, which made Dryden try harder, and so on. It was a sad spiral. I anticipated the situation driving Millerna to do something, but I never expected it to be as drastic as leaving the country.

This doesn't bode well. I frown, remembering the last time she made an abrupt departure from home.

Revius senses my mood and says, "Don't worry. She couldn't leave without someone to make sure that she doesn't run away like she did that time she was chasing Allen. And as luck would have it, Alucier got the assignment. I'm sure he'll be sending you notes regularly about Her Pinkness' status. After all, he'll need some way to blow off steam now that he's stuck with princess babysitting duty again."

Revius' last statement is meant to be a jab at me. For years, his roommate, Knight Caeli Alucier Maerzen, was assigned as my personal guard, which in practice amounted to preventing my adolescent self from associating overly much with Allen Schezar. However, I ignore Revius' remark as I'm glad to know that Alucier is keeping an eye on Millerna. I couldn't have made a better choice. He's discreet enough to handle a touchy situation well and experienced enough (from his dealings with me and his six sisters) to handle any sort of emotional outbursts Millerna may fling his way. But he's also smart and sharp enough to detect the slightest thing fishy, and more than capable of thwarting any sort of trouble with a minimum of fuss and muss. The fact that he is a good friend and probably will keep me well apprised of Millerna's doings is a bonus.

Alucier is probably less than thrilled with the arrangement though. After an exciting but brief stint on the frontlines during the Great War, he's been hoping for more challenging and high profile assignments to display his ability and prowess, and playing watchdog for yet another teenage princess definitely does not fit the bill. Having his colleagues mock him about his detail, the way Revius is doing now, is like pouring salt into a wound. I'm sure Alucier can't wait for Millerna to resolve whatever it is she needs to resolve and go home already.

And neither can I. I'm glad to know that Millerna is in good hands but it doesn't assuage all the worries in my mind. Millerna is a princess -- she cannot escape that reality -- and that means that her actions have implications. Not only on herself, but on her husband, her family, and even the kingdom. And as Revius and I round the final corner to Father's room, I wonder what the ultimate outcome of all these implications will be.

* * *

My meeting with Father more or less confirms Revius' gossip. However, he holds a much more optimistic view of the situation. Millerna must really have played the I'm-doing-this-because-I-want-you-to-get-better card well. Father's not so deluded as to be blind the fact that Millerna has other reasons for wanting to leave, but he sees her trip as more of an act of filial devotion than an escape from her marriage. Meiden stands by Father's bedside and nods in tune with Father's words, but I don't believe for a moment that he is convinced of the purity of Millerna's motives. 

As for Dryden, he looks... drained. From what Revius has told me, Dryden hasn't slacked off of his duties, but the circles under his eyes tell of sleepless nights, and I wonder if he's been eating properly. Slumped in his seat without his characteristic vitality, he looks like an entirely different man. I've never seen him so depressed. The toll Millerna's departure has taken on him is painfully clear, and I feel badly, for him and Millerna both, because I know she's just as miserable about the situation as he looks.

I want to do something, to step in and mend the brokenness between them. But I cannot allow myself to do that no matter how good my intentions are. I have meddled in their relationship enough already. Father and Meiden may have been the ones to arrange their betrothal, but I played my own part, pushing Dryden onto Millerna while forcing her away from Allen, and all the while not being open and honest about my own entanglements in the whole mess. I treated Millerna as a child then, but I know that she is not one now. She's proven she is mature enough to handle her own affairs and can take responsibility for her own actions. It's been difficult for me not to give in to the temptation to interfere, but I've learned to take a step back and simply leave my door open should she need a sympathetic ear. And on the occasions that she has come to me, that's all I give her. No advice, no direction. If she has a specific request for help, I don't hesitate to assist, but I don't attempt to guide her actions. I must trust her to make her own decisions. And it's all I can do now.

A week passes, and there's no word from her. However, Revius' prediction of updates from Alucier is on the mark, and I receive my first correspondence from Alucier. According to his letter, the most exciting aspect of their journey to Chezario was dealing with Millerna's motion sickness complaints. However, now that they're in Trevie, he gets to be alternatively bored and disgusted by the discussions my sister holds with the stodgy old doctors she interviews. Aside from Alucier, Millerna's entourage consists of two handmaidens and her former tutor, a retired doctor. Millerna's old teacher couldn't be more thrilled with the trip. Alucier and the handmaidens spend most of their energy trying to ignore the medical blood and guts talk. However, he notes that there has been no suspicious activity on my sister's part. No attempt to bribe him or running away or sneaking around at odd hours or associating with anyone other than the medical professionals and patients she consults. To her credit, she's garnering a great deal of useful information, but the thing he finds bothersome is that she keeps adding more clinics, medical facilities, and interviews to their itinerary.

It's all well and good that she's sticking to the purpose of her trip and apparently does not intend to disappear on us again. However, I am troubled at the way she prolongs her absence. In addition to the negative impact that it will have on her relationship with Dryden, it only adds more fuel to the rumor mill, which has already been spinning overtime. Frankly, the longer she stays away, the more her public image suffers here.

Although official reasons for her travel have been released to the public, that doesn't stop the populace from speculating about a split between the royal couple. True, it's not the first time the couple has separated. However, when Dryden left, his departure was overshadowed by the dread of attacks from the Zaibach empire. Gossip about the royal family is so much less interesting when enemy flying fortresses are looming overhead. Plus, the populace could appreciate the Prince Regent going out to serve the less fortunate during the turbulence. But without the distraction of war and given the much vaguer explanations for her traveling without her husband, people are much more biting with their comments about the Crown Princess' abrupt journey to Chezario. Theories about her absence run the gamut from elopement with a foreign lover to revulsion to some secret horrible deformity Dryden bears. And those are only the snatches I hear as I walk through the halls of the palace. According to Celena, they say much worse on the streets of town, but Allen won't allow her to relay any of those details to me. But what I do catch is difficult for me to hear, and I wonder how Dryden bears it.

Another week passes, and no Millerna. And before the next week can lapse, Dryden's on his fastest leviship en route to Trevie.

* * *

Dryden returns with medical journals and articles, shadowgraphs, medical paraphernalia, and a small cadre of medical clinicians in tow. But no Millerna. 

Dryden explains to Father of a new field of medical study called "physical therapy." From the way he describes it, it sounds like a kind of skilled nursing that maximizes the benefits of conventional medical treatment. Apparently, Millerna learned of it while in Trevie as the medical school being established there will include a physical therapy program. According to Dryden, Millerna expressed a burning desire to learn more about it as she is convinced of its benefits so he allowed her to stay in order to eventually bring this knowledge to the Asturian people. In the meantime, she'd asked some of her new physical therapist colleagues to demonstrate it to Father and his doctors for their evaluation and hopefully incorporate aspects of it into the King's medical regimen to promote his recovery.

All of this is quite interesting, especially when the lead physical therapist starts sharing data on special exercises designed to increase mobility of stroke patients. Eventually, all the dozen or so doctors, therapists, and nurses in the room are engaged in a lively and intense conversation about potential treatments for Father. Unfortunately, the discussion quickly gets too technical and complicated for me to follow. So when Dryden excuses himself, saying he's exhausted from the flight from Chezario, I immediately offer to escort him to his room. We exit, leaving Father and Meiden to make sense of all the baffling terms and acronyms filling the air.

We walk in silence. As we traverse the halls, I watch him from the corner of my eye. There's something different about him. I can't quite put my finger on it. Despite the excitement he displayed for Father and Meiden when describing Millerna's lofty goals for this physical therapy in Asturia, I can tell things haven't progressed between him and Millerna. He doesn't exude the same hopeful aura he once did. Yet neither is he the listless soul that flew out to Chezario. He's returned with purpose. There is something he's determined about. It's certainly NOT physical therapy, and I wonder what goal he possibly has in mind.

Dryden's room is on the fourth floor, one level above the floor where my room and Millerna's room are located. As we reach the third-floor landing, he pauses, just for the briefest moment, to look at Millerna's door. Even with that tiny gesture, I can tell how much he aches for her.

As he turns to mount the next flight of stairs, I say, "Dryden, I know how difficult things have been for you and Millerna. So I just want you to know that if there's anything I can do to help or if you ever need someone to talk to, please don't hesitate to call upon me."

He stops to regard me then. Dryden has a rather piercing gaze when evaluating something's worth, and I feel him sizing me up, weighing me and my offer against some sort of criteria in his mind. Finally, he says, "Actually, I think I'd like to take you up on that."

We go to my room where we can talk in private. I offer to ring the kitchen for some tea, but he declines. "I think that for what we are going to be talking about, we'll need something a bit stronger than tea," he says, depositing himself onto my sitting area sofa. "I don't suppose you've got anything handy."

I do actually. I rummage through my shelves to produce a bottle of vino and a pair of glasses.

I settle myself across from him and pour out the vino. Dryden takes his glass, but instead of drinking, he toys with the stem. His eyes watch the swirling of the dark liquid as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. I lean back in my seat and sip my own drink patiently. Some of my talks with Millerna have lasted until dawn, and I'm prepared to do the same for Dryden.

Finally, the swirling stops. "I'm letting Millerna go."

I inhale sharply. Out of all the things I anticipated, I never expected him to say that.

"It's for the best," Dryden continues, eyes still fixed on his glass. "It really hit me right after I arrived in Chezario. She had no idea I was there, no idea I was coming. I found her in a clinic talking with some nurses and that old tutor of hers. It was the end of the day, and all of them were a mess, including Millerna, but Millerna... she was positively glowing, she was so vibrant."

He smiles sadly. "It's been so long since I'd seen her like that, excited and energized about something. Seeing her genuinely happy... it was so beautiful, yet at the same time it really hurt. Because I've always wanted to be the one to fulfill her that way and never was. And then, she saw me... in that moment, her smile, her laugh, all that was gone. Just because I was there..." Dryden tips his head back and drains nearly half his glass in a single swallow.

I regard him with sympathetic eyes. He tried so hard, wanted Millerna so badly. But in the end, all he did and all he had -- his money, his intellect, his influence -- none of it was enough to win him the one thing he really wanted. "Dryden, I'm so sorry --"

He cuts me off a wave of his hand. "No, please don't. I'll survive. Besides, I think I've known for a while now that things wouldn't work out. Even before she left. Even before my father's stupid remark. It's just... it was really hard to give up that last shred of hope, you know?"

_I do know_, I think to myself. I can understand the frustration of a one-sided love. I've been there. I can't count the number of times I agonized over how perfect things would be if Allen would just come to his senses, realize how wonderful I was, and fall in love with me. And I understood the pain of letting the dream go, coming to grips with harsh reality, and moving on.

"She was surprised when I suggested we permanently separate," Dryden continues. "I could tell she was extremely touched by the offer. She told me she doesn't hate me, and there isn't anyone else out there, but after all the time that we've been together, her heart is still not in this marriage."

He sighs deeply and sets his glass on the end table. "Did you ever hear the story about me and the mermaid?"

I shake my head, puzzled by the abrupt change in topic.

"This happened not too long before my fleet encountered Millerna and the Crusade escaping Freid," he says, resting his chin in his hands. "My fleet was visiting one of the southern island kingdoms, and that's when I found her, this mermaid, in this wretched excuse for a beachside carnival."

"Her name was Sylphy. The poor thing was shut up in this tiny little tank. There was barely enough room for her to extend both arms, let alone swim. Can you imagine? Being stuck into a glass cage and put on for show for everyone to see? She was sick, too—the water looked like it was never changed and the aeration pump wasn't even functional. Ghastly, absolutely ghastly. Of course I had to get her out of there. So I paid the price. Didn't even bother trying to bargain the price down because I just wanted to get her out of there as fast as possible."

"She was thankful for a new master of course. Especially after she was transferred to my leviship's aquarium. It was absolutely spacious compared to what she was in before. And when I told her that I was going to return her home, she looked at me as if I were Jichia's greatest gift to mermaids."

"I expected her gratitude. But what I didn't expect was that she was going to fall in love with me."

He closes his eyes and chuckles at the memory. "She was a sweet thing. Really she was. Pretty, too. Lovely smile and beautiful ocean green hair. But to be honest, she wasn't my type. Aside from the whole issue about me not being able to survive underwater and her not being able to last long out of it, I found her company a bit boring. Did you know that merpeople talk almost exclusively about fish? I mean, I can enjoy a conversation about the intricacies of the patterns on mackerel for maybe a morning, but not for entire week. Plus, she smelled like fish. Her breath especially -- ugh. One day, I went topside to visit her at her aquarium, and she grabbed me and kissed me. It was like sticking your face onto a piece of raw tuna."

"So when she confessed her love to me, I obviously turned her down. I did it gently as I could, of course, but from the way Sylphy reacted, I might as well have been telling her that I was going to filet her for dinner that evening. But even after I turned her down, she wouldn't give up. She was innocent, young, and naïve, and believed that if she was just persistent enough, her feelings would get through to me, and I would fall in love with her. So... well, let's just say it was quite a relief for me when we finally reached her home waters, and we parted."

"All that to say that I understand how Millerna feels. As painful as it is for me to love her without her loving me back, I know it's hard for her as well to be pursued by someone she has no feelings for."

"Millerna's tried to love me, but she will never be completely happy unless she knows for sure she's chosen me. Chosen me on her own terms. But she can't. Not with my father, the King, the Council, and everyone else in the kingdom forcing us together. When she looks at me, she's never quite able to separate her own feelings for me from all the things people are telling her she should be feeling for me. Because of that, her heart is always keeping me at arm's length. And without being fully able to accept me, she'll never be completely happy in our marriage. And neither will I. So the best thing for both of us, I think, is to go our separate ways."

He buries his face in his hands, and I can't help but pity him. Maybe if circumstances were different, she would have chosen him, but the truth is that she is a princess, she is a public figure, and for her to escape the hubbub that surrounds them is impossible.

So much of me wants them to reconsider, believes that they can still work it out. However, they've made their decision, and the only thing left for me to do is stand by them. "Dryden, I truly wish it didn't have to come to this. But if that is what you've decided, then I'll support both of you. If there's anything I can do..."

"Actually, Eries, there is." Dryden looks up at me, and I see it there again, that determined glint in his eyes. "There's something I need to do. Something I promised Millerna. And I could use your help. Can I count on you?"

I nod and reach for the bottle to refill our glasses. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night.

* * *

Over the last few years, breakfasts in my suite have become somewhat of an institution amongst my closest friends. The two things outsiders find most striking about those dining with me is that the majority, if not all, of my company are male, and that the men in attendance all wear the uniform of the Order. I guess it just says something about the crowd I run with. 

However, today marks a change in this tradition. Dryden could not stand out more. Considering how disheveled his hair and robes are, he looks as if he's just rolled out of bed in the clothes he slept in. Quite a contrast to the shined boots and immaculately tied cravats sported by the other three men at the table.

However, Dryden did not get to be where he is from being intimidated and retiring in unfamiliar social situations. He made himself at home the moment he stepped in and, to Allen's chagrin and Revius' amusement, instantly struck up a kind of rapport with Celena.

"... I understand the ponytail. I mean, it's practical and all. Actually, Brother should probably try it, too, considering the way his hair just gets all over the place --"

"Ha! Allen with a ponytail! Why don't we add some braids and barrettes while we're at it? Or maybe a hair net would look better!"

"Another word, Revius, and Alucier will know exactly what kind of activities you were partaking of in his room when that mysterious stain got on the floor."

"Aww, you're no fun..."

"ANYWAY, as I was saying -- before I was so rudely interrupted -- I can understand the ponytail, but why the skirt?"

"It's not a skirt, Celena. It's a habayah."

"Habayah, skirt, whatever. Why don't you wear pants? I mean, they're so much easier to move around in..."

"Psst, Allen. You're letting Celena wear pants? I didn't know you were so open minded. Or has she just been raiding your closet?"

"Revius, you should know that when Alucier evicts you, you're not welcome to stay with us."

"Geez, can't you take a joke…"

"I'll have you know that habayahs afford as much freedom in movement as pants do. The reason why your skirts don't is because you just have way too many layers weighing you down, what with petticoats and stockings and bloomers and garters and such."

"Are you saying don't have any underwear on under that skirt of yours?"

Allen chokes on a forkful of food.

Dryden leans over to wink slyly at Celena. "Care to find out?

"WILL YOU LOOK AT THE TIME!" I exclaim loudly. Gaia has already suffered the effects of one energist explosion, it doesn't need the equivalent of a second unleashing in my room. "Celena, we'd best be heading to the library now. Dryden, I'll see you in the Council meeting later. And don't the three of you have somewhere you need to be going?

Seclas practically jumps out of his seat. According to Alucier and Revius, the knight is a rock in the face of military onslaught, but when it comes to dining room skirmishes, he's the first to shrink back, especially when superiors on the level of the Prince Regent and the second princess of the kingdom are involved. Mumbling something about overseeing morning drills, he starts ushering his fellow Caeli towards the door. Seclas nearly gets Revius and Allen out of the room when the door bursts open and a young girl bounds in.

"Good morning, everyone! Dryden, you ARE here! I almost didn't believe Mr. Rat when he said you were having breakfast. You never have breakfast at home! Wait till I tell Mother!"

"Hariotte!" Dryden exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The girl flounces over to him. "I got here early. I thought I'd get a head start, but the library wasn't open so I thought I'd go look for you. And here you are!"

"Everyone," says Dryden, clearing his throat. "I'd like you to meet Hariotte, my younger sister." He drops a quick peck onto the top of her head. "She just turned 14 last month."

"Pleased to meet all of you." Hariotte bobs a curtsy.

Everyone simply stares. Partly because of her sudden entrance, but also because of the striking differences between her and her brother. Dryden is gangly, quite frankly one of the tallest men I know. In contrast, Hariotte is short, stocky, and more than a bit plump. Dressed in her full, ruffled skirts, she resembles a frilly ball of energy bouncing into the room. However, the same olive skin, green eyes, wavy brown hair, and free easy manner marks the two as siblings.

I quickly stand to introduce myself before Revius recovers and starts making snide comparisons between brother and sister. "Good morning, Hariotte. I'm Princess Eries, and this is Celena --"

"I thought you might be Celena!" Hariotte rushes over and starts pumping Celena's arm vigorously. "Very pleased to meet you indeed! Brother's told me all about you, and I'm looking forward to working with you!"

"-- and those gentlemen over there are Sir Dashir Revius, captain of the palace guard; Sir Jesrel Seclas; and Sir Allen Schezar, Celena's brother. And while they'd love to stay, unfortunately they have to leave to attend morning practice."

Seclas takes the hint and resumes hustling out the door. Allen, however, has other ideas. "Actually, Princess Eries, Celena, may I have a word with both of you?"

Uh oh. Allen's tone is polite but cold. It looks as if Hariotte dropped one word too many. And given Dryden's and Celena's earlier antics plus the fact that Allen's opinion of Dryden is lukewarm at best, things might have just gotten a lot more complicated for us.

Revius' curiosity is piqued now. He looks as if he'd like to linger to hear what Allen has to say. However, Seclas, recognizing an impending storm for what it is, grabs his colleague, drags him out the door, and shuts it firmly behind them.

Meanwhile, Allen pulls Celena away from her merry new acquaintance and ushers me and Celena to the far corner of the room. "Celena, you told me last night that Princess Eries had a private assignment for you."

"Yes, I did."

"So what does Dryden's sister have to do with it?"

"She's working on the same to assignment. Duh."

"You knew? And you didn't tell me about it?!"

"Brother, what's your problem? We're just working together in the library. Are you also going to get mad at me because I'll be talking to the librarian, too, and I didn't tell you about it in advance?"

"Celena, don't be impertinent."

"Brother, I'm not being impertinent. Whom Eries assigns me to work with is none of your business."

"It is my business whom you associate with…"

I have to admire how well Celena is handling this. It wasn't too long ago that telling her to keep a secret was the equivalent of broadcasting it all over town with fanfare and trumpets. However, I've since figured out that as long as she has one or two people also in "the know" that she can talk to freely about the secret, no one else will hear a peep out of her. And in this case, she's keeping Allen firmly out of the know. Even with all the squabbling, she hasn't given away a thing yet, but it looks like I'll have to step in to get Allen off her back.

"Allen, it sounds like you have some concerns --"

"Eries, is Dryden somehow involved in this task that you've assigned to my sister?"

"Allen, Dryden is my brother-in-law," I state, the very picture of reason. "We're both members of the Council. It's hardly realistic to think that we work in separate vacuums."

"Yeah, Brother," says Celena, sticking out her tongue at him.

"Celena, stop that. That's not ladylike. Eries, I would appreciate you not having Celena involved --"

"Allen," I break in. "Is there something about Miss Hariotte that you object to?"

Allen stops to choose his next words carefully. Gentleman that he is, he would never speak ill of a woman, no matter what the circumstances. "It isn't her I object to per se," he says in a low voice. "It's just that if Celena and Dryden's sister are continuously working together on something that Dryden's involved in, Celena will be exposed to Dryden on a regular basis, and it's his influence I disapprove of. And I also disapprove of the fact that both of you neglected to inform me of this detail in the first place."

"Brother!" Celena fumes.

"Excuse me for barging in," says Dryden, earning a glare from Allen for the interruption. "I think the three of you have reached an impasse, and I think I can clear things up."

"Dryden, you don't have to --" Celena says.

"It's quite all right, Celena. If your brother is the man of integrity I know him to be, we can trust him with our secret."

Allen looks at all of us in bewilderment. "Just what's going on here?"

Without hesitation, Dryden says, "Millerna and I have decided to separate. We're going to divorce officially."

Allen is instantly abashed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes, well, not as sorry as I am, I assure you," replies Dryden dryly. "But anyway, for now, that knowledge will only extend to the five people in this room and will not go beyond. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, of course. But why the secrecy?"

"Basically, it's because a divorce is complicated, and a royal one doubly so." Dryden sighs, folding his arms before him and slumping into a chair.

"When I left Palas just before the war ended, I told Millerna I was leaving, gave back the ring, and thought that was that. It wasn't though -- a point my old man took great pains to make when he dragged me back to Asturia. There's a lot more paperwork, people, and proclaiming involved if we want to make it official and legitimate. And that doesn't include dealing with the opposition that's sure to come from both our fathers and likely a whole load of others about this. Given the stakes certain individuals have in our union, things could potentially get really ugly really fast."

"That's why, before I left Chezario, I promised Millerna that I would set the proceedings in motion and take care of any major obstacles before she comes home," he says, his voice softening. "I may not have succeeded in becoming the husband she desired, but I'd like to do this one last thing right for her. As much as possible, I'm going to make this divorce as quick and painless as possible for her. So that's why I'm back here alone. She'll be dragging out her time in Trevie learning about every bit of minutia Chezarian medicine has to offer while I prepare things here."

"Since that lecture that I got from my old man, I've learned a little more about the formalities involved. However, it being a royal divorce involving a Prince Regent, historical precedent and a bunch of other legal things will also factor in. Much as I'd like to delve into the details myself, it's a bit too risky with my Father and his employees always around me, and trying to retain a lawyer to take care of it could arouse suspicion as well. So that's where the ladies come in."

He gestures towards his sister. "I'd been thinking from the start of having Hariotte help me. Hariotte's young, but she's got a knack for political history the way I've got one for business."

"Yup," pipes up Hariotte. "And I spend most of my time reading through old documents and archives anyway so no one will think anything's out of the ordinary. They'll just think I've taken on a new subject to study. And keeping it secret from Father won't be difficult. He barely acknowledges my existence as it is -- he's too busy trying to take over the world," she adds, with a flippancy that clearly showed where within the Fassa family her loyalties lay.

"One problem though was that the documents and books that are of most interest to us are in the royal library, and Hariotte's never accessed it before," says Dryden.

"Dryden approached me about the royal archives since I'm so familiar with the library," I chime in. "Much as I'd like to help Hariotte myself, my schedule won't allow it. Not to mention, too much involvement on my part could arouse suspicion as well. So we figured that the best way to handle it would be to have someone else I trusted assist Hariotte. Celena was the obvious choice because she's assisted me before on researching other topics. She's familiar with the library, and she's discreet. If she runs into any difficulties, it won't raise any eyebrows if she goes to me for help; people are already used to seeing us work together. And the two girls are about the same age so having them work together shouldn't attract much attention. It'll be easy for them to come up with some plausible reasons for being together if anyone asks."

"So Schezar, those are our plans. Our sisters will be basically reading through a bunch of old documents in the library together and reporting back to Eries and myself so we can figure out the best way to bring about this divorce between myself and Millerna." Dryden fixes a steely gaze upon Allen. "Do you have any objections?"

I wonder what's going through their minds at this moment. Granted, things have changed a lot over two years, but considering their tangled past with Millerna... How hard it must be for Dryden to tell his former rival that after winning Millerna's hand in marriage he's failed to win her heart. And although Allen has assured me that he realizes that his romantic feelings towards Millerna were misplaced, what will it mean for him now that she may potentially be released from her marriage vow?

"None."

"Good," says Dryden curtly, "because we've wasted enough time here. We've work to do."

Author's note: as those of you familiar with Aerika's writings have probably already figured out, this is kind of an alternative third part to her Eries trilogy (i.e. it picks up where "Always" left off and goes in a completely different direction than "Intrigues."). For those of you wondering why I put this out instead of finishing Dryden's story, it was because I had a dream about Aerika S's characters (no, I'm not kidding!), and then I couldn't get this plot out of my head. So I figured I'd just write a one-shot and get it out of my system. But then the characters just wouldn't shut up! Gah! Yeah, Ron thinks I'm daft for starting another story, and he's been stingy with his help because he has manga reviews to get out. Oh well…

I'm hoping to wrap this up in two more chapters. But that is only if Aerika likes the story. If she hates it, then I guess that's that…

-hS


	2. Ache

Author's note : Personally, I think Eries' hair is platinum blonde. However, Aerika's always described it as silver so that the hue I'm using in this story.

Ache

posted July 20, 2007

No matter how much care and effort you put into strategizing, there are always some little details or bits of uncertainty that worry and nag at you, especially where covert activities are involved. In the case of Operation Divorce Data Gathering, one of my initial concerns was our information gathering team. Celena is devoted enough to me and Hariotte to her brother to carry out the task at hand, but I wasn't sure how well they'd work together. Plus, there was the possibility of their frequent library encounters raising suspicions.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. The two became instant friends. By the end of the first week, people probably would have found it strange if they weren't at the library together. Whether exploring the bazaar, strolling by the canals, chatting at cafés, or lounging in the gardens, they were practically inseparable.

"Yesterday, Miss Hariotte even sat in for Celena's entire flute lesson," Allen tells me.

"You don't say? Now that's true friendship. That or she's tone deaf." Music is one of the few activities Celena's actually enthused about. Unfortunately, her playing ability hasn't quite yet matched her gusto. The one time I've heard her play was at a recital, and it will be awhile before I allow myself to be subjected to that kind of experience again. Revius alternated between yawning hugely and trying to convince me to let him launch a few knives to end the cacophony for good. Irritating as he was, at least he provided a distraction from the earsplitting squeaks regularly generated by Celena's and the other musicians' instruments. Alucier, being the gentleman that he is, was much more well behaved. He did comment afterwards though that if his parents had heard sounds like that back at their Dunhaven farm, they would have sent him and his siblings out to look for the poor creature that needed to be put out of its misery. "I don't suppose you bribed her? Or maybe stuffed her ears with cotton beforehand?"

Allen chuckles. "Actually, it turns out that Miss Hariotte is learning the violin herself and meets occasionally with a number of other young ladies to play and improvise music . She wanted to see if Celena's musical ability was comparable to theirs. From the sounds of it, she'll be introducing Celena to the group the next time they meet. Celena is quite excited about it."

"I see." I make a mental note to keep a wide berth should I ever learn where and when they meet.

Despite the fact that I'm less than enthralled by the thought of Celena wielding her flute en force with other subpar musicians, I'm glad that her circle of acquaintances is expanding. Prior to meeting Hariotte, Celena's friends consisted primarily of the men of the Crusade and the old servants at the Schezar estate. Not exactly model company for a nobly bred young lady. I was the exception; you can't do much better than a princess of the kingdom. However, Celena views me more as her brother's friend and a big sister figure than her own friend. Allen has made attempts to introduce Celena to daughters of the established Asturian nobility, but invariably, the girls end up ignoring Celena in favor of fawning over her handsome brother. As a result, she's refused to step into another tea parlor with Allen ever again. Hariotte's the first teenage girl Celena hasn't immediately dismissed as a simpering, boring airhead. And now... "It sounds like Celena might actually start to make friends with other girls closer to her age."

"It seems so. I'm grateful to Miss Hariotte for that."

"Grateful enough to let her visit Miss Hariotte's home by herself?" I ask wryly.

"Celena told me that they wanted to take turns having breakfast at each other's house, and I was more than happy to give my consent."

I blink, pleasantly surprised. "Now that's quite the statement."

The very first day they'd met, Hariotte invited Celena to dinner at her house. However, Allen flatly refused to let her go. While he found Miss Hariotte to be a fine young woman, his high opinion of her did not necessarily extend to the other members of her family, particularly Dryden and Meiden. As such, he did not want her anywhere near their home and their influence. Much arguing on my part, persuasion on Hariotte's, and whining on Celena's ensued. In the end, Allen was convinced to accompany Celena to dinner at the Fassa estate. And he discovered that night that what Hariotte purported was indeed true: her oldest brother and her father were hardly a presence in that house. It was Lady Fassa and her older daughters that reigned in that manse, and while they were not necessarily the most traditional women in Palas, theirs was the type of gentility Allen hoped to instill in his own sister.

"So that explains why Celena's not here," I say, glancing at the empty setting beside Allen. "But I think it will be good for her to be spending time with others instead of always tagging after us. It'll be fun for the girls, and Celena will probably make that many more acquaintances from being at the Fassas' regularly. From what I know of Lady Fassa, she is quite the patroness of the arts, and is always hosting some sort of gathering in her house." I grin. "Who knows? It might not be too long before the Celena that once had to be forced into going to high society events will be playing hostess to any number of gentlemen and ladies in her own parlor."

"Playing hostess to any number of ladies in her own parlor," Allen amends. "Celena's too young to be interested in, let alone associating overly much with gentlemen just yet."

I recall the flirtatious exchange between Celena and stable master back at Caliper. It's quite clear that the charms of the opposite sex hold some interest for her. But considering the type of reception Allen is bound to give any young man showing any interest in her, Celena "associating overly much with gentlemen" most definitely won't be happening anytime soon.

I sigh. Out of all the people that disappeared from Allen's life, Celena is the only one to have returned. And after losing her twice, he's not about to lose her again. However, he clings to her so tightly, I wonder if he really will be able to let go when he must.

"Allen, she's 17. In case you've forgotten, most maidens make their debut at 15. Not to mention, you did propose to Hitomi, and she was 15 then."

"It's different for Celena, you know that."

I knew he'd say that. It's an old, oft-used argument. Granted, Celena's circumstances were dramatically unlike any of her peers. When she finally returned to Allen, her mind was still that of the five-year-old girl kidnapped from her family. In the last two years though, she's progressed remarkably. Her gestures and manner lack the polish of other girls who have had the benefit of years of training and practice, and she does have the occasional childish impulses and outbursts. However, she's sharp and intelligent, more than capable of forming her own opinions and making decisions for herself.

"Allen. Aren't you the one that said you wanted to Celena to finally have a normal life? She's a little bit wild now, but she's definitely maturing, and one of these days she's going to want to settle down with someone and have a family of her own."

Allen doesn't respond. Instead, he keeps his eyes fixed on his plate and toys with the remains of his breakfast.

"It's good that you're looking out so diligently for Celena," I go on gently. "But you're going to have to get used to the idea of her growing up and living her own life. Eventually, you'll be facing a future where she's no longer your responsibility."

"I know," replies Allen in that tone that tells me he's not really taking my words to heart. "I know that she's going to grow up and move away one day. But for now, I don't want to think about the future, and I'd much rather just focus on her while she still here with me."

Allen's words stab me. Honestly, his statement doesn't have anything to do with me, but I still feel it, like the reopening of an old wound.

Mentally, I rebuke myself. I am only Allen's friend. That's all I am, that's all I've been, that's all I'll ever be. But there was a time when I dreamed of more. Long ago, I harbored a secret hope that once Allen moved past his personal tragedies and failed relationships that he would step forward in his life... and invite me to share his future with him. But that dream died, withered and choked by his inability to let go of the past.

I've long since come to grips with the fact that Allen has no interest in building a more intimate relationship with me. But when he talks about not wanting to think about the future... It's ridiculous for me to feel that old disappointment. It's stupid for me to take his words for more than what they are. But I still feel it.

The sudden resurfacing of old feelings fluster me so much that I am thankful for the knock at the door that interrupts us.

It's Dryden. "Good morning, Eries, Schezar," he apologizes, still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Sorry I'm late, I just couldn't get out of bed. I guess it's probably too late for breakfast, eh?"

"Actually, there's quite a bit left." I gesture for him to sit down. "It looks like Celena and your sister are making their own arrangements for breakfast from now on. Seclas hasn't shown up, and Revius..." From the little I've seen and everything I've heard, the captain of the palace guard has a rather active and colorful nightlife. One that I don't care to dwell too deeply upon. "... he's probably had another late night."

"Well, in that case..." Yawning, he stumbles into a chair and surveys the offerings of my table.

I've extended a running invitation for Dryden to participate in my breakfast club. Concern for his overall well-being is the reason that I gave Father. It doesn't do for the Prince Regent of the country to be looking as gaunt and haggard as Dryden does, and if I can get him to eat at least one proper meal during the day, it's a step in the right direction. Dryden's workaholic tendencies are no secret to Father, and he wholeheartedly approved of my effort to look out for my brother-in-law's health.

However, there's another reason for the invitation, one Father isn't privy to. As Dryden reaches for juice and a muffin, he eyes me meaningfully and says, "Actually, Eries, since most of the others aren't here, this might be a good time to talk about, you know, that thing..."

I check my watch. We have 20 minutes before both of us have to be at a council meeting. This would be an excellent time. I nod. "Allen, would you mind --?"

Allen understands immediately. He rises from the table to take his position outside the door to ensure that we are not disturbed.

I head over to the cabinets where I keep my files. We had decided early on that any information that the girls produced would be stored in my room. Weasel that he is, there is always a chance that Meiden or his assistants might be snooping through the contents of Dryden's offices while he's out. However, I doubt he'd ever take the risk of poking around in my room, and although physical therapy has made marked improvements to Father's mobility, he won't be in any shape to snoop through my room anytime soon either.

The cabinet that holds the girls' notes and papers naturally has a lock. I pull out my key ring and sort through the keys to find the right one.

"By the way, before we get started... a letter from Millerna arrived last night."

"Oh?" In the weeks she's been gone, Alucier and I have gone through eight rounds of exchanges by mail. I've written to Millerna at least a dozen times, penned an equal number of letters on Father's behalf, and Jichia only knows how many times Dryden's written her. And finally, she sends her first letter home.

The key ring slips back into my pocket. The lock can wait. I turn to give him my full attention.

He speaks casually between sips of juice. "She says thank you. Actually, she was surprised that I told you about our... plans. And even more surprised that you're helping us when you very well could have stayed out of it altogether or even hindered our efforts. She wants you to know that she's grateful. And, in case I've been remiss in expressing it, I'm grateful, too," he adds before pausing to take a bite of muffin.

He's completely unruffled as he chews on his breakfast. He's told me a number of times now that he has come to terms with his separation from Millerna. However, his calm seems so uncharacteristic, I wonder if it's genuine. He's just received his first written correspondence from Millerna since they agreed upon their divorce, but he displays the same nonchalant manner he wore during yesterday's mundane discussion about the palace letterhead with the head secretary. It's such a departure from the emotion he used to gush whenever Millerna was concerned that I question if he's really being honest with himself.

"Dryden..." I had sworn not to do this, to not butt in about their decision, but I can't help myself. "About the divorce... you are sure about this. That there is no way for you and Millerna to reconcile, and that this is what you really want," I say, at the very least managing to phrase it as a statement rather than a question.

In response, he fishes a single sheaf of paper from the inner pocket of his robe and sets it by my plate. "Millerna also included this note for me to give to you and your father. To keep up appearances, she felt she had to send you two something. Obviously, it doesn't include any details of our nefarious plans, but it is full of plans. The things that she's doing while she's in Chezario. All the people she's meeting, all the places she's visiting, all the things she intends to learn."

He leans back in his seat and laces his fingers behind his head. "I've no doubt that avoidance was the primary reason she didn't send any correspondence up till now. But there was another reason, and that was because, frankly, she didn't have the time."

"Her life is full. She's doing things, things that give her meaning, things that bring her to life. And honestly, none of it has to do with me. While it's not official, our divorce has already happened. She's moved on, and while that's not what I want, I've already tried everything there is to try, and there's nothing left for me but to accept that reality now."

"So, yes, Eries, I'm sure about this," he declares adamantly. "I'm not happy about it, but that's what I have to face. But I assure you, I'm capable of moving on. I AM moving on. And I'm starting by going through whatever wretched mountain of documents you and those girls have compiled for me."

Dryden told me before not to feel sorry for him. I can't help but pity him though. However, even more than that, I admire his resolve, his resilience. A broken heart is enough to send anyone into a deep pit of pain, but he's not about to stay there. He is determined to scratch his way out, and the best thing I can do is lend him a hand.

I reach back into my pocket for my keys. "As you wish."

* * *

"So basically what you're saying is that Dryden's going to need to hire a small army of accountants at some point down the line," I say wearily, rubbing my temples.

"Pretty much," Celena replies, tapping her flute against her knee.

"No wonder the divorce rate is so low in Asturia," I mutter as I rifle through notes. And I thought the Asturian tax code was convoluted. "It's just too difficult for an ordinary citizen to get through one without a lawyer. Or ten. By the time everything's settled and signed, neither person has anything left to live on." Things are complicated even for couples with modest holdings, but for a man of Dryden's immense wealth -- it's a good thing that he will be able to afford the aforementioned army of accountants.

The girls, Dryden, and I are in one of the palace music parlors. These rooms are designed such that they are virtually soundproof when all the doors and windows are shut. It's a handy feature that keeps those practicing or performing within from disturbing those outside. Or, in our case, allows us to hear Celena's explanation of the financial and legal particulars of divorce settlements and division of estates without having to worry about people listening in on our conversation.

"Well, most Asturians get their divorces by going around the rules," says Hariotte, plucking absently at the strings of her violin. Ostensibly, the girls came to the palace to show Dryden the fruits of their musical endeavors, and I just "happened" to run into them and get invited along for their musical demonstration. Both girls have their instruments and sheets of composition paper at the ready should anyone knock at the door. So far, no one has. Still, the girls have been unleashing bursts of music every 10 minutes or so just in case.

The things I do for my family...

"The most common shortcut is for the couple to temporarily move to another country, like Basram, where divorces can be obtained much easier, get their divorce, and move back separately to Asturia," Celena elaborates, twirling her flute like a baton in her long, dexterous fingers. "The majority of divorces recognized by the kingdom fall into this category, and the next largest is cases of abandonment. Apparently, if a person goes missing and his or her whereabouts are completely unknown for 15 years, the marriage contract can be rendered null and void. However, those situations usually have other problems associated with them -- such as suspicion of homicide and the like."

"Unfortunately, neither of those are really an option for us. The Prince Regent and Crown Princess of the country can't exactly sneak off to another country. And even if Dryden or Millerna tried to go missing, between Asturia's military and my father's resources, they wouldn't stay missing long," Hariotte concludes.

"Translation: cheating's not an option for me." Dryden's words elicit a glum nod from his sister. "Geez, you'd think that being part of the royal family would help with things like this," says Dryden, laughing humorlessly.

"Well, if we have to play by the rules, then that's what we'll do," I say, rising from my seat. We've been here for nearly 2 hours. Dryden and I, used to multiple-hour long sessions and summits, could keep going, but it's time we give the girls a break. "Celena and Hariotte, good work. We've kept you long enough here so --"

"Actually, Princess Eries, there's one more thing we learned that we should mention," says Hariotte quickly.

"Oh. Very well. Go ahead."

Hariotte, who has been completely poised till now, suddenly looks uncomfortable. "It's about situations where children are involved," she stammers. "The statutes don't spell it out as such, but from everything we've seen so far, if the couple has any children, the courts won't even consider divorce proceedings until the youngest son is of age and the youngest daughter is married."

"Well, it's a good thing that Millerna and I don't have any kids," quips Dryden.

"Obviously, there aren't any now. But is there a chance that maybe she's..." Hariotte trails off, her face reddening.

"That maybe she's pregnant?" Dryden finishes. Hariotte stares at her shoes in response. Dryden sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I didn't really think it would be necessary for me to have to spell it out to you like this, but... Millerna and I have never slept together. Period. What with enemy guymelefs destroying the city and sending a wall crashing down on me on my wedding day, the most intimate contact I had with my wife on our wedding night was her changing my bandages. And that was about it. Not too long afterwards, she moved to a different room altogether (supposedly to make me more comfortable), and it wasn't too much longer after that that I left the capital."

"Even after Father forced me back, I wasn't going to force myself on Millerna. I was going to wait until she was consumed by flames of passion for me. And well, all of us know how that turned out. So you can rest assured that I have no offspring in the works," he says, replacing his glasses on his nose. Taking note of his sister's face which has been getting progressively redder and redder, he adds, "Honestly, little sister, it should be more embarrassing for me to tell you about my nonexistent sex life than for you to hear about it."

Hariotte indeed looks as if she's about to explode into a cloud of self mortification. She looks frantically to Celena for help. Celena, the nervier of the two, sighs and takes over for her friend. "It wasn't so much your potential children that we were worried about."

"We're more concerned about the possibility of Millerna having a lover."

The room goes dead silent.

Despite Millerna's impulsive actions of the past, despite the random rumors that she left husband and country for another man, I've never doubted Millerna's fidelity to Dryden. Granted, she couldn't get over her own apprehensions to allow physical intimacy with him, but I couldn't imagine her offering herself to anyone else either.

Then again, I'd believed similar things of Marlene, only to have my images of her and Allen irrevocably shattered the moment Allen told me that Chid might be his son...

Celena and Hariotte watch Dryden intently for his reaction as do I. But he's not looking at any of us. He stares stonily out of the window. When he finally speaks, his voice is so low, my ears have to strain to catch his words.

"Millerna isn't comfortable enough with me to always be completely forthright. Not that I blame her. In all honestly, we've never been as close as I've hoped. But when I saw her in Chezario, I believe she was completely genuine when she said she wasn't involved with anyone else."

He turns to face us. "I still believe that to be the case."

Hariotte looks away, ashamed of having questioned her sister-in-law's virtue. Celena, however, presses deeper. "That may be the case now. But who's to say what might happen tomorrow? A week from now? In a few months? Everything we've learned so far has indicated this won't be a quick process, and she could meet someone else in the interim and things could happen. A moment of weakness could result in the separation never happening. Not to mention, it'll start a whole new batch of problems."

Celena's words are blunt but true. A Crown Princess simply doesn't give birth to bastard children. Facts are just arranged and rearranged to legitimize them. It was the case for Chid and for my Uncle Nueva as well. It was only a couple of years ago in a moment of unusual candidness with my father that I learned the real reason why his brother, or more accurately, his half-brother, was never in the running for the Asturian Crown. If Millerna were to become pregnant with another man's child, the consequences were enormous, and it wasn't just about having to delay divorce proceedings.

I think of all the heartache and turmoil that resulted out of Chid's birth. Millerna was blissfully oblivious to it, but I, as Marlene's sister, Allen's best friend, and my Father's daughter, witnessed things that I would rather Millerna and Dryden never have to go through.

"So what you're trying to say, Celena," I say, trying to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand and away from all the emotional bombshells attached to them, "is that we need to inform Millerna the risks of... behaving imprudently. Not that she is behaving imprudently."

"Yes."

"Very well then. I'll take care of it. It's about time I sent her a letter anyway --"

"No, Eries," Dryden interjects. "You shouldn't have to do it. I'll take care of it."

"Are you sure about that?" I'm not sure how well Millerna will receive a directive from her husband regarding her sexual conduct. At the very least, just bringing up the topic automatically means he's questioning her integrity. "Things might end up getting touchy, and if she gets mad, well, I'm her sister. She has to forgive me eventually."

"The fact you're her sister's exactly why I'd rather take care of it myself," he argues. "If she gets upset at me, what does that matter? We're trying to separate after all. You, on the other hand, are her sister for life. I don't want your relationship to sour on account of this. Besides, you're doing enough as it is. End of discussion."

He has a point. I nod my assent.

The matter isn't quite completely closed yet though. I've learned over the last several days just how fond Hariotte is of her brother, and from the way her head is hanging, she's obviously guilt stricken at having brought up such a delicate and embarrassing topic. "I'm sorry, Dryden, for even mentioning --"

"Hariotte. " Dryden lays a hand on her head to muss up her curls. "I'm not about to chew up a messenger for the message, even if it's an upsetting one. It's alright. I'm not mad at you. Promise."

She looks up hopefully. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

Hariotte breathes a sigh of relief, which is quickly followed by a shriek as Dryden starts yanking her pigtails. "Dryden! Ow! Stop it!"

His hands release her hair only to pinch her cheeks. "Well, I had to do something. Can't have you going around with that depressing monkey face, you little chimp."

"Why you --" Hariotte swipes at her brother. There is a brief, intense, ridiculous exchange of swatting between the siblings until the two finally dissolve into giggles.

Celena throws an arm around her friend. "See! I told you he wouldn't get mad about it!" She grins at Dryden. "You're lucky, your brother's so much cooler that way than Allen."

"Why, thank you, Celena!" says Dryden, throwing out his chest. "I am, in fact, very cool. So cool that tonight, to thank you girls for all your hard work, we're going out tonight! Shorb Seashore! My treat, of course."

The girls cheer.

"I want lobster!" yells Celena.

"Sarva fish, sarva fish!" sings Hariotte. I cringe at the mention of the seafood. Despite having been raised in an oceanside city, I can barely stand the sight of fish and shellfish on a plate.

"Your wish is my command, ladies," declares Dryden gallantly. "And what about you, my dear Princess Eries?"

"Me?" I say, caught off guard. "I didn't realize you wanted me along."

"Of course we do, Princess Eries!"

"Yeah, Princess Eries, you have to come! Oh, don't worry about the fish. There's plenty of places on Shorb Seashore that serve steak, too. Steak and lobster, yay!"

"Now, now girls, simmer down. If Eries has something already scheduled, we should respect that. But if she doesn't…Eries, you are of course welcome and invited to join us."

I consider briefly. The cautious part of me is concerned with the four of us being seen too much together. However, there's another voice in my head telling the cautious side to take its worries and shove it. It's been a while since I've been invited to do something fun outside the palace, and the invitation to enjoy an evening on the town is extremely tempting -- even if I do have to endure the sight of dead marine life on the table.

Maybe, for once, ulterior motives can be put aside, and the four of us can simply be friends and family enjoying each other's company.

"I'd love to come."

* * *

Our foursome ends up expanding to a party of six. When you're the part of the country's monarchy, you can't just go wandering off alone, and leaving the palace always necessitates an armed escort. However, when Celena went to Revius to request a guard for this particular assignment, Allen just happened to be within earshot as she uttered the words "Dryden," "me," and "dinner" in the same sentence.

As a result, it was a considerably grumpier Celena that returned with two Caeli in tow. Allen, because there was no way he'd allow his baby sister out at night in Dryden's company without him to keep an eye on things, and Revius, because there was no way he was going to let an opportunity for free primo victuals pass him by.

So it was that Celena and Dryden were seated on the opposite ends of the dinner table with Allen entrenched firmly between. The arrangement was less than ideal to Celena, and she made her displeasure known to her brother by acting out in a number of ways, from sneaking the vegetables that she didn't want to eat onto Allen's plate when he wasn't looking to attempting to use her lobster's claws as castanets. Not surprisingly, a constant stream of bickering flowed between the siblings during the meal. Not that it bothered the rest of us. Dryden and Hariotte found it amusing, I'd experienced enough of it during the inspection tour to be inured to it, and Revius' attention was fully absorbed by the food served and the buxom young waitress serving it.

As we leave the restaurant however, Celena's mood brightens considerably. Shorb Seashore has quite a collection of fine eating establishment and taverns; however, it's best-known as a seaside playground with its sandy beach, entertainers, and boardwalk lined with gaming booths and souvenir stalls. Most of the diversions are aimed towards families with children, and it's exactly the type of environment that appeals to Celena's more childlike side.

"Oh look! There's a juggler! Look at the funny collar his dog is wearing. Ha ha ha! Hey, Hariotte, do you want to try the goldfish game? Oh, cotton candy! Brother, get some for me and Hariotte! Please! Please!"

"Well, it's nice to see her finally lighten up," Dryden remarks, as Celena squeals and points, dashing from one booth to the next with Hariotte in tow and Allen trailing after them like a weary parent. "At the restaurant, I thought for sure we'd have to issue restraining orders between her and Allen before dessert."

"Celena doesn't get seriously mad at her brother. Well, not usually. That's just how they communicate," I say. "You get used to it."

"You're kidding." Shaking his head, he adds, "I'd hate to see them on a bad day."

Revius laughs. "You should have been there the first time Allen brought Celena to breakfast at the palace. The ruckus they made scared Seclas and a whole pack of handmaidens off."

"Celena normally doesn't act out at all," I elaborate. "She just gets a bit high strung when it comes to Allen because he's constantly taking the role of parent instead of brother, and Celena feels like she's beyond that."

"Speaking of high strung, it looks like the era of peace and tranquility is over." Revius jerks his thumb in the direction of the Schezar siblings who have begun arguing yet again.

"Celena, I said no, and that's final." Allen's voice is firm.

"Brother, you're such a meanie. I'm just asking you to win one more prize. Just one more. Is that so much to ask?"

Allen eyes his sister. She's clutching a cone of cotton candy, an assortment of sweets, a bag of roasted nuts, a carton of popcorn, a tasseled tambourine, and a sequined mask in her hands and has a small army of dolls and plush toys crowded in the crook of her arm. "I think you've got more than enough for one night. Look at you, you can barely hold what you've already got!"

"But Broth-e-e-er," Celena whines piercingly. "We're at the beach. It's not the complete experience without them."

"What's going on?" I ask Hariotte, contentedly munching on her carton of popcorn from the sidelines of Schezars' latest spat.

She points to a nearby booth, a darts game with sparklers for prizes. "Celena thinks we should get sparklers to light up on the beach. Allen thinks he's gotten her enough stuff already and doesn't want to waste any more money on prizes for her."

"Is that all?" says Dryden. "Well, this is a problem easily remedied." He plunks several coins down before the gaming attendant. "A few rounds of darts please, my good man."

Abruptly, the Schezars stop arguing. Celena squeals in delight. Allen protests, "Really, this isn't necessary. You've already been generous enough with dinner, and Celena's spoiled with enough as it is --"

Dryden waves him off. "I think that sparklers on the beach is a capital idea. Besides, it won't just be for Celena. We'll all share them."

"Yahoo!" Celena yells.

Hariotte snickers. "Don't get your hopes up too high, Celena. Dryden's horrible at these games."

"Hey, don't speak ill of your older brother," says Dryden, tapping Hariotte smartly on the forehead with the blunt end of a dart. "I may not be the best shot in all of Asturia, but I'm not that bad."

Hariotte only laughs harder in response.

Dryden throws up his hands. "So much for my sister's faith in me. But it might not be a bad idea to combine our luck in this endeavor. Celena?" He offers her a few rounds of darts.

"Sure!"

As it turns out, Dryden's not as bad as Hariotte makes him out to be. He's worse. To win the prize, a thrower must send a complete round of four darts into the bull's-eye circle. Most of Dryden's darts don't even hit the dart board. Celena's only marginally better. The two of them egg Hariotte into taking a few turns, but she's laughing so hard that all of her darts hit dirt. Despite their dismal performances, the three of them are thoroughly enjoying themselves, and Dryden keeps purchasing more turns despite the fact that he is definitely not getting any returns on his money.

Finally, Revius gets impatient with the show of ineptitude. "Here," he says, elbowing Dryden aside. "This is how it's done."

Eight quick rounds later, we're heading to the beach with eight boxes of sparklers in hand.

"Thank you!" exclaims Celena, hopping around Dryden gleefully. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Dryden! You're the best!"

"Hey, what about me?" Revius demands.

"Yeah, thanks, Revius." Celena says flippantly, not even bothering to look at him.

"What kind of gratitude is that?!"

"You might have won the game, but Dryden tried the hardest. And besides, he paid for your darts."

"Speaking of which, these have got to be the most expensive sparklers in all of Palas. How much did you waste on that game anyway? You probably gave that guy enough money to cover his next month's rent."

"It's not a waste if we had a good time," states Dryden. "There are some things that are more important than money."

Revius mumbles something under his breath about being able to afford that kind of attitude too if he were filthy rich. However, knowing what I know, I fully share Dryden's sentiment.

The girls waste no time in lighting up the sparklers once we reach the beach. Allen hovers close by to make sure Celena doesn't get carried away with her fiery toys. Dryden and I plead exhaustion and settle onto a nearby wooden bench to watch. Still peeved by Celena's lack of appreciation for his skills, Revius stays with us and keeps a snarky running commentary about Celena and Hariotte acting like a couple of overgrown kids. That is, until a trio of curious female tourists -- Egzardians, judging by their clothes (or lack thereof) -- approach, attracted by the glow of the sparklers. When Celena and Hariotte invite the midriff baring women to join in on the fun, Revius suddenly has a greater appreciation for the beauty of small handheld fireworks.

A group of young people having a good time inevitably attracts others looking for fun. Illuminated as they are by Celena's abundance of sparklers, they might as well have been putting out a homing beacon for all the fun seekers on the beach. They're quickly joined by a couple of families with small children, several more tourists, and a half dozen young men in the uniforms of rookie swordsmen, who split their time between ogling over the girls and standing in awe of the two Caeli in their midst.

"This is turning out to be quite the party," I remark as two of the swordsmen in training gather driftwood to start a bonfire. "Maybe it's time we royals get off our pedestal and join in on the fun. Dryden? Dryden?"

No response.

Dryden isn't watching the gathering on the beach. Instead, he's staring vacantly into the horizon.

I've never had Dryden space out on me before, and I wonder what's going through his mind. Despite his assurances to Hariotte, perhaps our earlier discussion of Millerna affected him more than he let on. I once believed Dryden wore all his emotions on his sleeve but have since learned it's often a front. Despite his outspoken, outrageous, outlandish, spontaneous manner, there's more to him than he shows the world. He was lively enough earlier at the restaurant and on the boardwalk, but now without the frenetic antics of Celena and Hariotte to distract him, it's almost as if he's withdrawing into himself.

Maybe I shouldn't read into it, maybe I should just leave him alone. However, part of me is concerned that too much time sunk deep in thought by himself could drag him down into an unhealthy depression.

Celena's left her considerable hoard of carnival treasures in my care for safekeeping as she runs riot on the beach. I pluck a peanut out of her assortment of snacks and thrust it into his face. The sudden motion starts Dryden out of his reverie. "Peanut for your thoughts."

He regards my meager offering with cross eyed disdain. "Is that all they're worth?" he snorts, nose in the air.

Well, that's a good sign. He isn't so far gone as to have lost his sense of humor. "I'll have you know, I'm the Prince Regent of the kingdom. My thoughts should be worth much more than that," he says, even as he plucks the morsel out of my hand and pops it into his mouth.

"So?"

"So, what?"

"What were you thinking just now?"

There is a long pause as Dryden turns introspective once again. Just when I think he's not going to talk, he says, "I was thinking that tonight was really fun. I haven't had this much fun in a long time. But I keep thinking that what would've made it even better is if Millerna were part of it." He gives me a sad, lopsided smile. "Pathetic, don't you think?"

"You miss her," I say sympathetically. "You can't help how you feel."

A frustrated noise escapes his throat. "There's a lot I can't help with. You know, despite my old man's scheming and all the politics and power plays involved in our betrothal, I really did want to be married to her." He sighs. "So much for wedded bliss. Nothing about it turned out the way I'd hoped."

He looks so dejected now that I wonder if I should offer him one of Celena's plushies for comfort. "What were you hoping for?"

Without missing a beat, he declares unabashedly, "Sex. Lots and lots of sex."

_I will not blush. I absolutely forbid myself to blush._ Unfortunately, I feel my face flush hotly enough to glow red in the dark.

And despite the dim lighting on the beach, Dryden's instantly aware of my embarrassment. He smirks. "You know, for someone who's been on the King's Council for eight years now, you're awfully easy to fluster."

Irritated, I smack him in the face with a stuffed rabbit. "You're awful! Here I am thinking you're being moody and serious, and you're just making fun of me."

"I AM being serious," he replies indignantly, shoving the toy back at me. "What do you expect me to say? Stuff about having a soul mate to share my life's journey or having children that are a reflection of our love?"

"Well... yes. I thought you were a romantic."

"I am a romantic. I'm a romantic through and through," he insists. "But romance with promises of love and fidelity and clasping of hands and sweet whispers and the sharing of life dreams and hopes -- all that can take place even before marriage. The thing that really defines the difference between courting and marriage is the sex. And if you want to talk about kids, well, really, children are just the direct outcome of sex."

"Well, I guess that's one way to look at it." I'm not quite so sheltered as to be ignorant that men's sexual expectations and appetites and attitudes can differ wildly from women's. Especially with Revius sharing his nighttime exploits at the breakfast table. However, Alucier ensures that they couch certain details in more delicate terms when I'm around. Dryden's just a little more blunt than I'm used to.

"Hey, I'm a healthy young man with all the physical desires and urges that come with the package. I mean, what man alive wouldn't look forward to his initiation to carnal knowledge with all the anticipation the world?"

_Initiation--?_ For the second time tonight, his words knock me off balance.

He's quick to notice. "What now?" he barks.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

"No, there is something. Out with it."

I can't think of an excuse so I settle for the truth. "I... I'm just surprised. I just assumed that someone as widely-traveled and knowledgeable and sophisticated and successful as you would've already had that cough kind of experience." Going by what I know of my male friends, having "that kind of experience" is more the rule than the exception. Revius is blatant if anything about his promiscuity. For all his ideals of chivalry, Allen's wound up with a not entirely undeserved reputation as far-flung as Revius'. Even Alucier, whose image is nowhere near as tarnished as his younger colleagues, isn't exactly an innocent lamb.

"Not you, too." He rolls his eyes in annoyance. "Not that I feel the need to make an official proclamation about it, but yes, I am a virgin. For Jichia's sake, why does everyone have to act so shocked when I tell them that?!"

"I never --"

"Do I really come off as such a lech?"

"I don't --"

"Wait, don't answer that."

Dryden's completely agitated. So much so that I can't get a word in even if I try. I finally decide it's better to just shut up and let him vent. And vent he does.

"Yes, I'm looking forward to getting some action, but that doesn't mean I'm about to go for a romp with just anyone who throws herself my way," he says emphatically. "Trust me, I've had plenty of opportunities. More than you'd probably believe. But I've higher standards than that. Much higher. And you know what? I deserve better, too. Anything less, and I'll be cheating myself."

"I want a woman who wants me for me. Not because of my money or position. Not because of duty. Not because of an agenda. But because she's crazy-mad, passionately in love with me and can't wait to get down my pants."

And on that note, the tirade ends.

Ok-a-ay. Obviously, this was kind of touchy for him. And as it's not exactly the most comfortable subject for me, I can't quite seem to form a response, apology, or even a coherent thought after that rant.

Worked up as he is, fortunately it doesn't take very long for him to calm down. The tense mood quickly dissipates, and soon his lanky frame is sagging against the bench as he mutely takes in the activity at Celena's sparkler party. One of the Egzardians is trying to cozy up to Allen, but he is ignoring her in favor of keeping the swordsman trainees away from Celena. However, another tourist is having much more success with Revius, who is likely to be in store for another late night tonight.

Eyes fixed on the lively scene, Dryden says, softly now, "The way things stand now though, I wonder if I'll ever get the chance to experience anything at all. And in the meantime, it seems like everyone else is out to get lucky."

There's a touch of wistfulness in his voice that alarms me. "You're not actually considering..."

He snorts in disgust. "Do I need to repeat myself? I want better than a one night stand. Not to mention, it's bad business practice."

"That's an interesting statement."

"You disagree?"

"No, it's just that so many men in your position don't seem to share that view, or at least they don't put it into practice, considering the cough types of activities they often engage in at certain cough entertainment districts."

"I didn't say it was popular, just that it was bad business," he huffs. "The funny thing is that it's one the few principles of business I learned from my old man that didn't come from him beating it into my brain. It's bad enough when your parents are fighting about you and your siblings. It's a lot worse when they're fighting about the children that came out of your old man's latest fling. Placating vindictive old lovers and keeping a respectable appearance can get expensive and complicated, you know. Plus, it wreaks havoc on the tranquility of a household in general."

I don't care to think much on Meiden Fassa's love life -- I'm not nearly that much of a masochist. But hearing about his indiscretions isn't that great of a shock for me, especially since I've already gotten an account of Hitomi Kanzaki's abduction by Meiden's geckos as told by the Fanelian King's catgirl.

"My mother's had to put up with a lot. A lot. Yet she still stays faithful to my old man. She has her reasons. Still, she deserves much better than that." He nods towards Hariotte, talking animatedly with one of the Egzardian women by the bonfire. "Hariotte and the rest of my sisters deserve better than that. I already know my old man's got a short list of suitors for them. Compiled with his best interests in mind of course. But, as far as I'm concerned, if marrying a fishmonger will make my sister happy, I'm all for it, and I'm going to do everything in my power to ensure their happiness."

"So Eries," he says abruptly, turning to me. "Enough about me. I spilled my guts, it's your turn now."

"Excuse me?" I ask, confused.

"Marriage. What are you hoping for?"

The last time I heard anyone mention me and marriage in the same breath was in a conversation with Meiden Fassa shortly after Millerna's and Dryden's return from Atlantis. As our primary topic of discussion had been Allen's treason charges, it had been more of a snarling match than a civil chat. During the mudslinging, Meiden told me flat out I'd lost my chances in Asturia's succession by holding out for a man who was not only unworthy but wouldn't even acknowledge me. In the most antagonizing manner possible, he declared that with my sister marrying his son, no one was going to consider me anymore. I bristled then, but infuriated as I was, I realized that I reacted as I did largely because there was an element of truth to his words. And it hurt.

Dryden's voice pierces through my haze of thoughts. "Err…don't feel like you have to strain your brain to answer."

"I had dreams -- no, more like fantasies about marriage once. I think all girls do." As I speak, my gaze is drawn -- irresistibly it seems -- towards Allen's form. The old dreams of his hand in mine and silver haired children with eyes the color of sapphires flit through my mind briefly. "But it's difficult for a princess to escape her reality so I stopped dreaming a long time ago. And now, honestly, I don't think marriage is even in my cards."

Dryden follows my gaze. "Is that because Allen..."

"No." My answer comes out much more sharply than I intended. I quickly catch myself and start over. "No, he's not the reason, though there was a time that he was a major factor why I never accepted an offer," I say, more honestly this time.

Dryden looks at me quizzically. "So why --?"

I give him a wry look. "Oh come on, Dryden. You can't brag about that fine intellect of yours and tell me you don't know. It's because the marriage offers just aren't there anymore. I've been hearing since I was 18 that I was 'getting old for a princess.' I'm 23 now. I can only think of one other princess in her 20s in the same situation." That other princess being Marquesita e' Egzard, First Princess of Egzardia, four years my senior, and incidentally my good friend. Despite our differences in style, we share quite a bit in common in ideology and temperament, a fact that hasn't escaped us on those occasions we've talked about our as of yet unwed status.

"When it comes to the pool of eligible princesses out there, there's the 17 and under crowd, and then there's us. And trust me, we're not even being considered." As Sita put it once, "Why marry a strong-minded, experienced older woman who already knows how to think for herself when you can have someone younger, dumber, and easier to manipulate?"

"And things aren't much better on the homefront either. I think you know why," I add. The reputation that I've made for myself on the council has made it quite clear to any would-be suitors that the Ice Princess is a force to be reckoned with and hardly the type to content herself with being, as Sita calls it, "a glorified broodmare."

"So are you okay with this or just resigned to it?"

I pause to consider my answer. It's been a long time since I've thought about these sorts of things, and an even longer time since anyone's asked. Even as I mull over my answer, it strikes me as odd that it's Dryden who is doing the asking. Usually it's Alucier, who has for years assumed the big brother role in my life, who drags these things out of me. Then again, Dryden is my brother-in-law -- at least for now -- so maybe it's not that odd after all.

"I like my life," I finally say. "I can't say I relish everything that comes with it, but it gives me meaning, and I like to think I'm making a difference for the better. I don't want to give that up."

" I'd be lying if I said I didn't want a family. But there aren't very many Asturian noblemen out there willing to tolerate, let alone support, a wife that wields more political influence and power than he does, and I'm not about to retire to a life of teatime socials and children's play dates just so I can have a chance at a husband and children."

"But you don't think you'll be lonely by yourself? A position doesn't love you. A job doesn't hug you back," Dryden asks.

As Dryden poses this question, a little boy approaches Allen to look at him in awe. Despite the pang the sight of Allen kneeling down to talk to the tot sends through me, I answer, "Even if I did marry, that doesn't guarantee love. The marriage of a princess very rarely has anything to do with love. Certainly, there'll be another person in a house that I'm connected to, but that doesn't necessarily mean he'll care about me. I've known of plenty of married women that have felt isolated in their marriages, and that's hardly the type of environment I'd want to raise my children in," I say, thinking of Encia Schezar. "So as far as I'm concerned, it's better for me to stay myself and risk being single for the rest of my life than to turn myself into something I'm not for someone who probably won't even appreciate it."

"But even single, I'm not alone. Father's not in the best shape, but I think he still has many years ahead of him. And Millerna -- we used to fight all the time, but ever since the end of the war, the two of us have really been there for each other, and I think that'll continue down the road."

"And I have friends of course. So this old maid certainly won't lack for company, especially when it comes to breakfast. Although, now that I think about it..." Something occurs to me, and I do a quick mental inventory.

_Allen, Alucier, Celena, Revius... even Sita and Damise..._

"What's so funny?" Dryden asks, puzzled by the sudden giggle that bubbles out of me.

I grin. "I never really thought about it before, but most of my friends aren't married either. And it's not as if I'm the oldest." That honor falls to Damise, followed by Alucier and Sita. "It would be rather hypocritical for them to condemn me when their marital status is the same as mine."

Dryden laughs, entirely amused. "Eternal singlehood, is it? And all this time I thought the key to being part of your inner circle of friends was the Caeli uniform."

"That's hardly a fair assessment," I say with mock indignity. "After all, you're my friend, and you're about as far from being a Caeli as a person can get."

Dryden blinks in surprise. "Really? You consider me a friend? I always thought you just felt responsible for me because I'm married to your sister."

"I think that was probably true at the beginning, but after that time you helped me block your father's nominee to replace Lord Windor's seat on the Council, how could I not consider you a friend?"

Dryden groans. "Trust me, I was doing us all a favor. I apprenticed under Sobbold for a season, and that was enough of him to last me for the rest of my life."

The two of us chuckle at the memory. It hadn't been the first time Dryden had taken a stance opposite his father's at the Council. However, it was the first time Meiden had staked so much on his son's position working in his favor, and in siding with me, Dryden had failed to act according to his machinations. The fallout had been unpleasant all around, inside and out of the council chambers. I can only imagine how much grief Meiden caused his son at home. But after the space of a year or so, it was something that Dryden and I could look back upon now and laugh.

"Seriously though, Dryden," I say once we've quieted down. "I think we've been through enough together for our relationship to be more than just our connection through Millerna. Even after this divorce business is over and done with, I hope we'll stay on good terms."

"Good terms as in deigning to acknowledge my existence if we should pass each other in the street, or good terms as in pining for my presence to grace every moment of your leisure time?"

"Good terms as in your invitation to breakfast at my suite stays good indefinitely. You just have to show up on time."

Dryden groans. "I knew it. You really don't want me around after all. You know it'll be impossible for me to make it there at that ungodly hour once I move out of the palace."

"I'm just trying to get you to improve your outlook towards the morning hours."

"Argh, morning. Completely overrated."

Dryden growls for a bit, but then continues good-naturedly, "But, your unholy pursuit to convert me into a morning person aside, I do appreciate the offer and the sentiment. And I want you to know that the feeling is mutual on this end as well. Here, an occasion such as newly acknowledged friendship deserves a toast." Dryden rummages through Celena's assortment of candies to produce two foil-wrapped liquor-filled chocolates and hands one to me.

"To friendship," he says, tapping his candy against mine.

I return the smile. "To friendship."


	3. Inertia part 1

Inertia, part one

posted September 4, 2007

Author's note: Thanks to Aerika for her assistance on the Gaean calendar. This chapter got way out of hand so I had to split it into two. I will try to get up the next half shortly. In the meantime, enjoy what I managed to finish, and please leave a review!

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Dryden is a man of unique style. Some would argue his tastes run more along the lines of eccentric. But while he is known far and wide as a character, he knows when and how to push the boundaries of convention and get away with it. A man does not get to be as wildly successful as him by offending the sensibilities of the people around him. Dryden is quite shrewd that way.

At least, that's what I thought before joining the other members of the Council to view the submissions for new cathedral sculpture this evening.

Dryden had volunteered to head the search for a design for the statue to replace the one smashed to bits in Zaibach's attack. At the time, he seemed the logical choice, considering his family's connections to the arts community. While I am well acquainted with Palas' theater scene, I'm a complete novice when it comes to the visual arts, and sorting through sculptors' names and portfolios is hardly my forte. The other Council members are even less qualified. Which is why all of us decided to just leave it in Dryden's capable hands.

However, by the time we disperse from tonight's viewing, I'm thoroughly rethinking the capability of those hands. I don't want to think about what the other Council members are thinking.

Given my current level of irritation, the best course of action would be to separate myself as far as possible from Dryden until I've cooled off. Unfortunately, we'd shared a carriage to get to the art studio, and that means I'm stuck with him on the way back. I'm long past trying to hide my annoyance and am aiming instead for refraining from doing him bodily harm. Sedgwick, our guard for this evening, senses my mood and opts to ride outside on the box with the driver instead of getting into the carriage for the ride home.

Dryden, though, acts as if things couldn't be better. He doesn't even flinch when I slam the carriage door shut. As we lurch into motion, he says, "Well, I think that went wonderfully, don't you?"

I gape, torn between checking for signs of delirium and smacking some sense into his brain. Whatever he's been putting into that hookah of his is affecting his mental capacities.

He continues blithely, completely ignoring my withering glare. "It's going to be difficult to choose the finalist. Those artists' entries went beyond anything I could have imagined." Suddenly, he bounces in his seat like an excited child. "Hey, I know! Let's have more statues! The cathedral grounds are big enough. We'll have our main sculpture, but we'll commission a few more designs to be made into smaller pieces, and those can go into the annex --"

I snap. "Are you kidding me?!"

He has the audacity to look at me as if I were the weird one. "Eries, is there something wrong?"

"Is there something wrong," I echo, dripping sarcasm. "Of course there's something wrong! Everything in that--DISPLAY back there was just plain wrong!"

"I take offense to that," Dryden sniffs. "You've just insulted the genius of some the finest artists in Asturia."

Their genius isn't the only thing that's been insulted. "Dryden, we asked for images of Jichia, NOT an artistic free-for-all. None of them looked even remotely close to a proper Jichia figure!"

Over the years, thousands of statues of Asturia's primary deity have been rendered. They have been formed out of various materials, finished or enameled in different ways, and decorated with varying levels of ornamentation. But all of them show Jichia in the same iconic pose: her body in an elegant S-curve, a symbol of majesty and grace.

The things I saw this evening weren't even close.

"Of course not," says Dryden matter-of-factly. "It would've been silly for me to ask them to give me something like that."

With a sense of dread, I ask slowly, "What instructions did you give them exactly?"

"To create their own personal interpretations of the serpent goddess. I told them to think out of the box, to let their imaginations run wild." He practically beams with delight. "And I must say what they came up with is astounding, don't you agree?"

I do, but I'm astounded in a completely different manner than he is.

Despite Alucier's and Revius' numerous jokes about my wardrobe resembling that of a nun's, I'm hardly the pious sort. Still, I understand the importance of the religious establishment and dutifully participate in all the requisite holidays and rites. Religion plays an important role in our country and therefore must be handled properly with the necessary level of decorum. Dryden, however, doesn't seem to share this understanding.

"Dryden, we're trying to come up with an image for the chief deity of the kingdom for the said chief deity's cathedral in the capital of the kingdom -- NOT entries for a modern art exhibit! I don't even want to think of what would've happened if the bishop had been there tonight. For the love of Jichia, that last entry alone would have gotten you excommunicated!"

"Ah, you're referring to 'Jichia At Rest,' right? Can't say it's my first pick, but I have to hand it to that artist, it's quite the original concept."

"Original!" I fume. "I doubt he spent more than five minutes making that -- THING." Just thinking about it makes my chest tighten with disgust. A coil of sausage would have been a better depiction of the goddess than that piece of trash.

"You're being close minded, I'm sure Jichia appreciates being shown in new and creative ways."

"I'm sure she does NOT appreciate being depicted as a big fat lump on the ground. Open your eyes, Dryden! That sculpture looks like a pile of sh—"

I catch myself just in time, snapping my mouth shut. Dryden, however, leans over with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Yes? You were saying?" His mock innocence is just daring me to finish my sentence.

With a frustrated cry, I shove him roughly. Clutching my head in frustration, I count to 10, and then to 20, desperately trying to rein in my temper. He's hardly upset by my outburst though. In fact, he seems thoroughly amused.

_The nerve of him..._

In an undertone, I growl, "Dryden, please tell me that you didn't pull this crazy stunt just to get a rise out of the Council."

"Well, it was rather entertaining to see Lord Merrill drop his monocle and his pipe halfway through the exhibit, but my own personal amusement was just a bonus and not the main goal, as you apparently think. My intentions really were to uplift the goddess to new and previously unattained heights. And I think we're well on our way to that."

I stare at him for a disbelieving moment before saying, "I'm getting out of this carriage."

"Huh?"

"Jichia's sending a lightning bolt your direction any minute, and I don't want to get caught in the crossfire."

"What do you mean she's going to strike me down? She loves me. I'm sure of it."

If looks were daggers, Dryden would be full of metal right now. "Dryden, how was that... spectacle supposed to be 'uplifting the goddess'? You're just making a mockery of tradition."

"I prefer the phrase 'flying in the face of convention' myself."

Given the direction of this conversation, I'm almost certain that this carriage is going to be reduced to a pile of smoldering rubble by an irate goddess within the next few seconds. And if she doesn't take care of it herself, her clerics certainly will, especially if they discover what the plaster models back at that studio are supposed to represent. "Dryden, religion is all about tradition and convention and decorum. What is blatantly disregarding all that supposed to do other than giving the bishop a conniption?"

"Well, it would make his homilies more interesting, for starters."

I gasp at his impudence, but Dryden charges on. "It's true, isn't it? When you think of religion, what comes to mind? Obligations, tradition, and being completely bored out of your skull. It's not as if people attend Jichia's religious ceremonies for fun, do they? Do you?"

I don't, but I don't think it's relevant either. "Worshiping a deity is not supposed to be about fun. It's about paying homage, respect. Giving the higher powers what they're due so they stay off our backs."

"I disagree with that," Dryden states flatly. "Jichia's priests and nuns are so prickly and stuffy and their rites are so stale, everyone assumes that Jichia's that way, too. But she's not. Have you ever actually read through the Chronicles of Jichia?"

I shake my head. Avid reader though I am, I don't really have a taste for the flavor of religious texts written in Early Ancient Asturian. I'd probably have to be thrown into solitary confinement and deprived of any other diversions for a few weeks before I turn to those dry ancient writings for entertainment. The most I've been exposed to are the sections that the priests incorporate into their liturgies, and admittedly, the way in which the holy texts are intoned don't exactly capture one's attention.

"Well, I have," Dryden declares. Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Compared to Atlantean, old Asturian is probably a piece of cake for my language glut brother-in-law. "And you know what? From everything I've read, Jichia's not boring. Not at all. She actually has a personality -- AND a sense of humor. She's vibrant and exciting. Taking to the air to do battle against her nemeses, outwitting her rivals, frolicking in the seas with her consort, coming to the rescue of her followers -- Jichia's doing a lot more than just this --" Dryden raises his arms and arcs his body in a ridiculous imitation of the classic Jichia pose. "-- all the time."

"And for us to imply that she is really is doing her a disservice," he adds, as he unwinds his lanky frame back against the seat.

I don't have enough religious background to confirm or dispute Dryden's statements, but it's clear his take on the deity is definitely not mainstream. I'm intrigued, but still I argue, "But traditions are important, there's meaning and history behind them. You can't just toss them all aside or treat them so flippantly. The whole establishment would fall apart."

"And you shouldn't hang onto all of them just for the sake of hanging onto them either," Dryden counters. "After all, even stained-glass windows and that overdone Jichia design you're so besotted with were once new and fresh concepts.

"Just because something's been done a thousand times over doesn't mean it's the only way it can or should be done. And just because something's new and different doesn't automatically mean it's blasphemous. I mean, wouldn't you rather the priests speak modern Asturian and just say, 'Good morning, everyone,' instead of 'To thee and thine kinsfolk, goode morrow, of what bringeth…'"

I have to admit, he does have a point. Having to use a long dead language during every religious service is hardly an incentive to step into a cathedral. Not to mention, Dryden's imitation of the high, quavering way the priests warble is right on the mark. The corners of my lips twitch, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I find it funny and struggle to keep a straight face.

Dryden notices of course and instantly sets about trying to tease me to laughter. "Hark, indeede, a smile is it I spy?"

I resolutely face away from him and will my features to remain neutral. But I can feel the muscles on my face straining as Dryden persists in his Early Ancient Asturian farcical mimicry. "Dost sound emergeth from our faire Lady's lips? Aye? Aye? Laugh, dost thou?"

I bite the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing as he cups a hand to his ear and leans towards me. "Lo, I knowest I hearest something…"

And, as if in response, my stomach growls loudly.

My face flushes red as Dryden snorts in amusement. He opens his mouth to follow up with some witty rejoinder, but before he can get his words out, he's interrupted by an even louder gurgle from his own stomach.

Our eyes lock for a moment, and both of us give way to laughter. Our outburst is so sudden and loud, the face of a concerned Sedgwick instantly appears at the window. He stares at us with such perplexity we can't help but laugh harder. I can't blame the young guard for being confused. After all, I've gone from Ice Princess to having a laughing fit after approximately 7 minutes with someone I'd been on the verge of strangling.

"How about we call a truce to this holy war and go somewhere and get some food?" Dryden offers, once we've calmed down somewhat.

"Agreed." I know without checking my watch how late it is. The palace's kitchen staff has already left for the night so that only meal awaiting me at home would be the tin of stale biscuits in my room. "Shall we swing by one of the taverns? Tuvello's got a good menu, and if we pull some royal weight, we could get into a private booth without much trouble."

"I've got a better place in mind," Dryden replies and taps on the glass to relay instructions to the driver.

0-0-0-0-0

"More pudding?"

"No, thank you. I couldn't eat another bite." I push away my plate with a contented sigh. "That was delicious."

"Well, you ARE dining with a Fassa, and when we dine, we dine well, no matter what hour of the day or night it might be," states Dryden as he helps himself to more dessert.

"Hmmm, that certainly seems to be the case although..." I eye our environs critically. "... the atmosphere here could definitely see some improvement."

Dryden jabs his dessert spoon at me. "Hey, I'll have you know that what you see before you is the foundation for the Fassa mercantile empire. Or at least my sizable portion of it. You should appreciate it for what it is."

"Uh huh," I grunt, still unconvinced by the monumental tribute to clutter that is Dryden's trading house office. Stacks of paper, piles of books, boxes of every shape and size, maps, scrolls, stamps, seals, abacuses are haphazardly arranged around the room. Or at least Dryden says that they are arranged. He warned me the minute that I stepped in not to touch or move anything out of its place. Heeding his request though proved difficult as we practically had to wade through his sea of stuff to get to the one clear table in a space that barely accommodated the two of us.

"I'm sure your clients and partners do appreciate the view -- that is, if they're able to squeeze in here to see it. How can you even find anything like this? Someone could bury a body in here, and no one would ever know."

"Humph. I have my own methods of organization. Just because I'm not into alpha-numeric colorcode arranging everything like other individuals in this room doesn't mean it doesn't work. And by the way, I would notice if someone had buried a body in here."

We could probably go on all night like this, but before I can launch a retort, we're interrupted by a tap at the door. It's Dryden's ratman assistant. He scurries in with a tray and, with a deferential squeak and bow, busies himself clearing away dishes from our meal.

Initially, I found Dryden's suggestion to have dinner at his trading house a bit strange. After all, most merchant's offices don't come equipped with a fully stocked kitchen and chef. However, like in so many other cases, Dryden is the exception. As absorbed as he can get with his work and with the erratic hours he keeps, it just makes sense. Obviously, it costs a premium to have a rotation of skilled cooks on hand around the clock, but Dryden can well afford the luxury of having bacon and eggs served in his office any hour of the day he desires. Though I suppose the ability to order up a buffet for 10 at a moment's notice would come in handy in his business dealings. In this building, for Dryden to ask for lamb chops and mashed potatoes for himself and a guest long past trading hours is par for the course.

And despite my earlier hesitation, I've no complaints now. The quality of the food rivals that of any Palas' finer restaurants. The ambience and service, however, are better described as...interesting.

"Tea, your Highness?" Mr. Rat offers timidly.

"Yes, please," I reply. "My compliments. The meal was marvelous."

In response, he bows repeatedly, uttering words so stuttered I can barely understand him. His head continues to bob up and down as he backs towards the door. I'm amazed -- by the fact that the ratman is able to exit the room without tripping over anything and that he hasn't passed out from all that bowing.

It boggles me that Mr. Rat finds such gestures necessary, especially considering the laid-back nature of his employer. But, according to Dryden, it's ingrained in the beastman's nature. It must be exhausting to be that servile and diffident all the time.

I turn my attention back to my tea and take a sip. The aroma is exotic, and I savor the delicate flavor. "Thanks, Dryden. Dinner here was a great idea."

"I'm full of great ideas," he boasts. "For instance, the one about convincing the bishop to --"

"Not that again."

We had spent the entirety of our meal debating the matter of the cathedral statue, and in the end, we'd worked out a compromise. I had been unwavering in my position that the main courtyard statue had to be orthodox or it would not be acceptable. However, Dryden managed to convince me that different and new did not necessarily equal bad, and I had agreed to support him in trying to have a few of tonight's submissions made into smaller pieces for the cathedral grounds. Despite my initial disapproval of the unconventional designs, I do admit that after hearing Dryden's little speech in the carriage that some of them have appeal and could work.

My making that one concession apparently gave Dryden the impression that I would be open to hearing his other ideas for overhauling the religious establishment. Not that I don't like the idea of homilies being delivered in colloquial Asturian, but I could already hear the bishop branding the Prince Consort an infidel as Dryden expounded upon the possibilities.

"Some host you are," I admonish. "You know, good etiquette dictates avoiding discussion of religion, sex, and politics at the dinner table, and we've spent the last hour talking nothing but religion. So what's next, sex or politics?"

I mean it as a joke, and I anticipate Dryden responding with some clever retort of his own. But Dryden doesn't reply at all. Puzzled, I look up from my tea to find his carefree demeanor suddenly turned serious.

Concerned, I ask, "Dryden?"

"Interesting that you should mention those two topics together, Eries." His voice is heavy, devoid of his earlier merriment. "There's something we need to talk about... along those very lines actually."

Sex... Politics... "Is it Millerna?" I ask urgently. "Has something happened --?"

"No, no." Dryden waves his hand reassuringly. "It's nothing to get worked up over... well, not immediately at any rate. And honestly, it doesn't really concern our divorce. Well... sort of not really."

Now I'm completely confused. "Then... what is it?"

Dryden hesitates before answering. Despite his assurances that it isn't anything to worry about, he's so uncomfortable that I'm already anxious. Even now, he's avoiding eye contact, keeping his gaze fixed on a corner of the table.

"I saw Hariotte late last night," he says finally. "I had asked her to come by to give me a status report on the whole Prince Regent business."

I nod. From what the girls have learned, the biggest obstacle to Dryden's and Millerna's divorce is not actually the divorce proceedings themselves, but Dryden's status as Prince Regent. His title, conferred and promulgated by the House of Aston, will not be an easy one to rescind. The monarchy does not name and remove successors to the kingdom willy-nilly, and there are measures in place to lock in the standing of a man designated heir to the throne. Once a consort is named, he's considered as much a part of the royal family as any son born to it. Obviously, the title is inextricably tied to his marriage, and unless his title can be dissolved, his marriage will be impossible to annul.

Thus far, the only ways the girls have come up for Dryden to rid himself of the title is to be accused of murder or treason, neither of which are exactly appealing.

"They've been working on it nonstop, but they haven't made much headway," he continues. "But they've just recently realized something that you should know."

"A couple days ago, Celena came into contact with an aged gentleman who was a longtime friend of her mother's family. He had known Encia Schezar as a child, and once he learned who Celena was, he talked with Celena at length, sharing stories about Celena's mother, her upbringing, and her marriage to Leon Schezar. As it turns out, the man also happened to be a retired lawyer. So being the opportunist she is, Celena strategically worked into the conversation the question of whether he believed her mother would ever have considered divorcing her father. The old lawyer's response was definitely not."

"When Celena asked him to elaborate, he explained that a bad marriage was always preferable to divorce, especially for women of the noble class. While things were difficult for Encia married to an indifferent, absentee husband, things would have been much worse for her if she parted from him. Like so many things, there's a bit of a double standard when it comes to broken marriages. Society, high society in particular, frowns much harder upon the divorced wife than the husband. Among the things she would have faced was possible rejection from her own family for sullying their name. Divorce also meant leaving her husband for a future without possibility of remarriage. Widows can and do remarry, but as far as the Asturian upper echelon is concerned, a broken marriage is a mark of disgrace... "

As Dryden speaks, I suddenly feel so stupid I could slap myself. This entire time, we'd all been acting under the premise that Millerna would remain Crown Princess even after her separation. But I of all people should have realized from the start that...

"... if our annulment goes through, Millerna will almost certainly lose her standing as Crown Princess. So, Eries, in the end, if we're successful, the kingdom won't be looking at me or Millerna to ascend the throne."

Dryden lifts his gaze to meet mine. "They'll be looking to you."

_But Asturian law does not allow her queens to rule..._

"But then it won't actually be you that they're looking to --"

_... but their husbands..._

"-- but your consort."

The room falls silent.

When Dryden married Millerna, I thought my chances at becoming queen were gone for good. However, I contented myself with the fact that I still had a role to play in the shaping of the country with my position on the Council and determined that even if I could not rule, I could at least support Millerna and Dryden in becoming the leaders that Asturia needed. That had been my mindset for so long that even when I learned of their intent to divorce, the possibility that the scepter might fall to me didn't even cross my mind.

But it is something I had better start thinking hard about.

Because, despite my age and contentious past with certain Council members, I will instantly become leaps and bounds more appealing as a Crown Princess than my sister if her separation becomes final. Infidelities, indiscretions, and illegitimate children can be overlooked or swept under the rug, but a divorce is a blemish that cannot be tolerated. And the fact that she's rejecting Meiden's son will hardly make Meiden and his allies on the Council sympathetic. Not to mention, her leaving Asturia and remaining in Chezario the way she has hasn't helped her reputation.

Sovereignty over Asturia doesn't faze me in the least. In fact, I'd welcome the opportunity. I've the knack, experience, and desire to rule and rule well. But as to a consort ...

Although I do hold a certain amount of influence, it's not nearly enough to change the current statutes to allow me sole sovereignty. Any attempt to do so would be futile, and all it would earn me would be the ridicule of the Council.

So in short, the moment I am designated Crown Princess, I'll immediately be back in the marriage market -- and as an extremely hot commodity.

My stomach turns at the very thought. I've managed to avoid being forced into marriage for so long and gotten away with it. But the scenarios of the past did not include a sick and ailing father and a disgraced sister. This time around, the pressure will be high, and marriage negotiations will progress at a pace that will make Millerna and Dryden's look sluggish in comparison.

Dryden's voice rouses me for my thoughts. "Eries?" His eyes are filled with concern.

I sigh and tap the rim of my tea cup with a fingernail. "You know, Dryden, if you're going to be breaking news like this to me, you should have offered me something a lot stronger than tea."

"I'm sorry." He guiltily lowers his eyes to the tablecloth again.

I shake my head. "You don't need to apologize. Besides it's not your fault. I'm a princess, after all. A political marriage is something I'd have to face eventually." It would be hypocritical for me to now fight what I've stood by and watched both my sisters accept. I've delayed and dodged the issue, but I've only postponed the inevitable. I will have to marry and marry for the good of the kingdom.

"You say that, but I can't help feeling responsible." Dryden shoves a hand through his thick brown hair in an irritated gesture. "Yeah, my old man is going to pay me back for this. With interest. And Millerna's going to get grief from this as well. But I can take care of myself, and Millerna will consider falling out of favor among the bluebloods of Asturia and losing her title a small price to pay for her freedom. In terms of where she wants to go and the people she wants to be with, no one's going to give a whit if she is divorced or not."

"But you... you're only setting yourself up for the same predicament you're helping us get out of. And given that we won't have any political standing to speak of at that point, neither Millerna nor I will be able to help you at all once the matter of choosing a new consort comes up. I'd hate knowing that we were the reason you were pushed and rushed into a loveless marriage when you're not ready --"

"I'll be fine," I insist adamantly. "I can handle myself on the Council floor."

He doesn't look convinced, and honestly, I'm not either. But there's nothing I can do but prepare myself for it as best as I can.

Truth of the matter is though, I should have prepared myself for this a long time ago. I knew better. But I was unwilling. My heart, captivated by Allen and ever hopeful of his love, wouldn't have it. I kept holding out, waiting for him to return my feelings. But, after all these years, I have never claimed that place in his heart that I've always longed for. So it's time for me to put all those dreams to rest and turn to the one thing left me.

"They're not going to be sympathetic," Dryden warns. "Things might have been different if your father was healthy, but he's not rigorous enough to be a strong advocate for you. And as far as the rest of the Council is concerned, your happiness won't even be a criteria."

"I know that, but I don't have a choice ... it's my duty. It's the fate of women born of the blood." I'd heard these selfsame words time and again Marlene's lips. I'd never thought the day would come when I'd echo her sentiments. But, as I voice them now, I have a better understanding than ever of how Marlene must have felt when confronted with Mahad's marriage offer.

0-0-0-0

Dryden's angry. Angrier than I've ever seen. I can tell by the set of his jaw, the hardness in his eyes, and the clipped stride, so different from his usual swagger, that carries him halfway down the corridor before I've even exited Father's quarters.

He managed to contain his emotions during our conversation with Meiden and Father, but his composure started to crumble the moment he begged his leave.

I hastily pull the door shut and hurry after Dryden as fast as I can without breaking into a run. But he outpaces me easily, and I almost immediately lose sight of him.

Still, I follow. At the second-floor landing, I'm startled by the sound of a door slamming.

He really is mad.

I hasten the remaining distance to Dryden's room and simply rush in, not bothering to knock.

"Dryden --"

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!"

I recoil, physically and mentally. Dryden's voice isn't raised, but he speaks so sharply he might as well have slapped me in the face.

I quickly close the door behind me. There's no telling what he might say, and we can't afford to have him broadcasting our secrets to this entire wing of the palace.

He stands, facing a wall, with his back turned to me. His hands are clenched tightly into fists. I've never seen him so upset, and it's such a departure from his normal manner that I'm unsure how to approach him. I try again to calm him down. "Dryden --"

"Eries, how could you?" he lashes out. "How could you just stand there and go along with them like that?"

His accusation strikes a nerve, sparking my own temper. Forget about trying to get him to settle down. I harden my tone and snap, "What did you expect me to do? Millerna has to be there!"

Orange has come upon us before any of us realized it, and with it, the Dacian Ball. The annual event is a huge extravaganza, and the entire capital is in a whirl preparing for the gala. And the purpose of this celebration of the year is to commemorate the establishment of the Asturian monarchy.

Which means the entire royal family is expected, of course, to participate.

So today, with approximately two weeks left before the festivities, Father brought up the subject of Millerna's return. He had been demonstrating for me and Meiden the progress that he has achieved since beginning his physical therapy sessions. Both of us were duly impressed, and Father's therapists practically beamed as we expressed our praise.

Father took in our reactions with a chuckle and said, "Well, given that the King is in such fine shape, I don't think anyone will have any objections to his Majesty attending the Dacian Ball this year."

"That's wonderful, Father. I guess there really is something to this physical therapy."

"Yes. I'll have to thank Millerna when she gets home for the ball. Has she written to say when she'll be back?"

And that's when I got stuck in between the proverbial rock and hard place. By the time a very tardy Dryden entered the room, Meiden had already dispatched a page with a message to have his fastest leviship depart immediately for Chezario to fetch his daughter-in-law back to the country.

And now Dryden is blaming me for it.

"You could have come up an excuse, stalled -- something!"

I respond defensively, "If I could have, I would have. But this is the Dacian Ball we're talking about. She's the Crown Princess. We can't possibly contrive an excuse without everyone getting suspicious."

Dryden slams his hands on his wall, making me jump. "Damn it!" He strikes the wall a second time with such force I'm afraid he'll break something. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen! I promised her! I told her I would --"

His voice breaks as his tall frame slumps against the wall, his anger giving way to defeat. "There has to be a way," he moans miserably. "There has to... Why --?" He buries his face in his hands.

My anger subsides at his anguish. "Dryden," I say, softening my tone. "I know this isn't what you planned. I know you wanted to have everything taken care of before she came home. But, Dryden, she's been gone more than a season already. She can't stay away forever."

"But even if she comes home, things will work out. I know we haven't figured out a solution yet, but we'll find a way. We will," I say, with all the positivity I can muster.

Deep down inside though, I've been wondering for some time now if we really will be able to solve this conundrum. Months have passed, and all that we've discovered is that the odds are stacked against us. But I have to believe that we can. I have to convince Dryden of that, too. As Celena, our diehard optimist, is forever reminding us, if we don't believe it, it has no chance of becoming reality.

And if Dryden loses himself to despair, then the cause is lost.

"Dryden, please..."

Dryden doesn't respond. There's a sound like a sob, and his whole body slides down the wall to crumple onto the floor.

He's taking this hard, much harder than he should, and I can't stand to see him like this. I reach out to touch his shoulder in an awkward attempt to offer comfort.

He immediately stiffens at my touch. "Eries, please," he pleads, not even looking at me. "Go. Just go. Just leave me alone."

I quickly withdraw my hand and step away. Much as I don't want to leave him like this, I have to respect his wishes. Without another word, I leave.

As I close the door, and however, I hear him whimper,

"Gods…why can't I get things right when they count..."


	4. Inertia part 2

Inertia, part two

posted September 24, 2007

In the end, fate intervened on our behalf in the form of Chezario's monarch, King Ferdinand Heinrich Caesar Chezari. The octogenarian ruler died in his sleep the morning Meiden's ship touched down in Chezario. The timing was frighteningly perfect. When a king passes, it's a given that representatives from the heads of Gaea's nations will come to pay their respects. So, Dacian Ball or no, a member of Asturia's royal family had to attend, and Millerna was the obvious choice. Not only was she already in Chezario, but she had developed somewhat of a relationship with King Ferdinand over the months she had spent in his country. As such, the only thing Meiden's ship brought home was a message from the Crown Princess stating that she would be representing our country in the wake, state funeral, and coronation that would take place over the next three weeks in Chezario.

It's extremely tacky to rejoice at someone's passing, especially that of a fellow monarch, but I was grateful for the fortuitous timing. However, while we had managed to buy time, it would all be for naught if we didn't solve our quandary before Millerna's next summons home...

0-0-0-0-0

Asturia would not be Asturia if it didn't have its endless cycles of parties and balls. Despite the inordinate amount of time I spend at these affairs, I can't stand them. All the primping, strutting, sizing one another up, vapid conversations -- ugh. Which is why I avoid the wretched things any chance I can.

But there's no way I'd be able to weasel my way out of tonight's extravaganza. When it comes to the Dacian Ball, my attendance has always been a mandate, not an option.

Tonight's event isn't without its redeeming moments though. After an intense argument between Father's old guard physicians and his new Chezario-trained physical therapists that involved a bewildering array of medical terminology I could never hope to comprehend, Father's doctors begrudgingly gave their approval for Father to attend tonight's festivities -- but only under strict conditions and even stricter supervision. As such, he was forbidden -- or shall I say spared -- from having to suffer the gauntlet known as the receiving line with me and Dryden. However, he was allowed to interact with small numbers of well-wishers from the comfort of an elevated seat in the ballroom, and now he's making his way to the stage for the first toast.

Although I'd rather be anywhere but, it's good to see Father here. Last year, he could only experience the ball secondhand through my stories and Millerna's, but tonight he's standing unassisted on his own two feet to raise his own glass high before the delighted crowd. His voice hasn't regained its former boom, but everyone can tell that Asturia's King is nowhere ready to roll into his grave.

The toast concludes with cheers and applause, and the dance begins in earnest. The musicians file onto the stage to tune their instruments, and dancers pair up on the ballroom floor for the first dance. Father, however, is calling it a night. No sooner has he finished his speech than his doctors and attendants have him back in his wheelchair and are whisking him towards his quarters. They stop though so I can bid him good night.

"Father, you were absolutely splendid. And Millerna would have been so proud as well."

Father snorts. "There is still life in Grava Aston yet even if I am stuck in a wheelchair."

"Next year, I'll be expecting a dance from you."

He laughs gruffly. "I'll look forward to that. But for now I must go or else these worrywart doctors are going to start clucking all over me."

"Goodnight then, Father."

"Goodnight, Eries. And enjoy yourself tonight."

Enjoy myself. For me to enjoy myself would entail leaving this crowd the way Father is right now. But because I don't have the excuse of being a stroke victim, I'll have to be a bit sneakier about my exit. Fortunately, I've had years of practice at this.

Half an hour later finds me up on the palace roof overlooking the main courtyard where the Dacian Ball is in full swing. Despite my dislike for these things, I do appreciate them from afar. The courtyard is a lovely sight with paper lanterns strung in the air and the colors of ball

gowns twirling.

Among those waltzing below is Celena who is having a grand time. Despite her tomboyish tendencies and distaste for most aspects of the Palasian noblewoman's lifestyle, she does enjoy a good party and revels in showing herself off. And showing herself off she is. She's breathtaking in her green gossamer gown and her mother's emeralds. Combined with the Schezar family's trademark charm (which she is capable of turning on when she chooses to) and her natural grace on the dance floor, she's no shortage of men vying for her attention. Celena is absolutely in her element, a fact that dismays only one out of the hundreds of men at this party.

I don't know whether to laugh at or feel sorry for Allen. Balls play a major part in the lives of Asturian nobles; this kind of socializing and all it entails is just a given. However, that doesn't stop Allen from regarding all the men hoping to dance with Celena as ravenous wolves out to get his tender lamb of a baby sister.

The really funny thing is that Allen himself is swarmed by admirers and would be dance partners. Gallant gentleman that he is, etiquette and his own sense of chivalry demands him to pay attention to these ladies even when he'd rather be policing those approaching Celena. It's amusing to watch Allen maintain the appearance of being fully engaged with his dance partner while simultaneously keeping tabs on Celena, what she's doing, and whom she's with.

Jichia help any of these men brave or foolish enough to try to follow up tonight's ball with a visit to the Schezar estate.

As I observe the Schezars from my lofty vantage, it suddenly strikes me how much of my life I've spent watching Allen from afar. I have never been able to completely take my eyes off him. Even at my most hurt or angry, I was still mindful of where he was, whom he was with, what he was doing, and kept the earcuffs he'd given me fastened firmly on my ears.

A wave of melancholy sweeps over me as I remember another Dacian Ball, years ago. Allen was there, as was I. Celena wasn't there to hold the all of Allen's attention, but there was another woman who was. One who captured all of Allen's mind, body, heart, and soul.

My gaze is drawn, irresistibly it seems, to a particular part of the courtyard, to a certain trellis and fountain. My heart constricts, overwhelmed by the recollection of a stolen kiss and a moment of realization. Suddenly, I'm 15 once more, and the pain of knowing Allen's heart was captivated and that the one he loved wasn't me but my sister is as raw as it was in that instant.

Then another image surfaces. My mind reaches back further in time to the memory of yet another ball... one that I escaped.

I wax nostalgic, remembering how instructions from a 14-year-old Allen had allowed me to leave the palace undetected. And once I had made good my escape, I had hurried, still in my garish pink gown, directly to meet him by the stables. We had huddled together under the night sky beneath a dusty blanket, just the two of us, talking, teasing, sharing one another's pain and secrets.

At that time, we barely knew each other. Yet, I was drawn to him. As for Allen, he had no one else. His mother was gone, and Celena was still missing. His mentor Balgus only tarried long enough to insure him a position within Asturia's ranks before departing for Fanelia. Marlene had yet to catch a glimpse of him, and Millerna was still a child.

In those days, I was his only friend, his confidant, his --

I knock my forehead against the balustrade, forcing the memories to disperse. This is ridiculous. Pathetic. There's no reason I should wallow in the past like this just because Allen never chose me.

Still, as I rub the sore spot on my head, there's a strong longing in my heart to relive that moment. A longing for that intimate feeling of being alone with someone and knowing that you're the person nearest and dearest to him...

The roof door bangs open, startling me from my thoughts. I twist about to see who has invaded my hiding spot.

"Dryden?"

Dryden jumps back with a yelp. When he recognizes me, he staggers in relief, clutching his chest. "Eries! You scared the daylights out of me!"

I'm equally surprised to see him and in such a state. His velvet doublet and silk cravat are unfastened and rumpled. His shirt, which had been a pure snowy white the last time I saw him, now sports a large purple stain.

He immediately turns back the way he came. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll leave."

"Dryden, wait!"

He halts in mid stride to look uncertainly over his shoulder at me. The atmosphere becomes decidedly awkward.

Since that evening in his quarters, the two of us have been deliberately avoiding one another. Even in the receiving line earlier tonight, we stood several people apart and didn't exchange a word. But as uncomfortable as it is to try to talk to him now, maintaining that distance is worse. If we don't work things out soon, it's going to drive me crazy.

I take a deep, steadying breath and say, "You don't have to leave. I mean, I don't mind your company if you want to stay."

Dryden looks away. Just when I think he's going to walk off, he replies, "Alright. That is, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. Really."

He joins me at the edge of the roof. We stand, three paces apart, not looking at each other, pretending to be absorbed by the view.

Minutes tick by in silence. It's strange for things to be so quiet between us. Most of the time, it's a gargantuan effort to get Dryden to shut up, but he doesn't utter a single word. He's completely unlike his usual garrulous self, which just accentuates the tension in the air. I glance at him through the corner of my eye, but I can't read him at all.

The strain finally gets the better of me, and I take the first stab at striking up a dialogue.

"Nice evening, isn't it," I begin.

"Uh-huh," he grunts, eyes still fixed on the party below.

"There's quite a crowd down there. There's probably at least a hundred more guests than last year."

"Hmmm..."

I doubt this conversation could get any stiffer even if we added starch to it. But I keep talking, because filling the air with mundane chatter is better than nothing at all.

"The Head Steward's suggestion to turn the courtyard into a second dance area worked out really well. It would've been unbearable if we had tried to fit everyone into the grand ballroom."

"Yeah."

"So, what brought you here to the roof?"

"I just needed to get away from the party."

Well, he's nowhere close to his regular level of talkativeness, but at least, he's speaking in complete sentences.

I press on. "Oh? Was someone bothering you?"

He shakes his head. "Not anyone in particular. Crowds in general wear me out."

His answer surprises me. "Really?" I look askance at him. From everything I've seen of Dryden in political, business, and cultural functions, he's the epitome of a social butterfly.

He nods. "If I had a choice, I would have left a quarter of the way through that dreadful receiving line." Now he's starting to sound a little more like the Dryden I know.

"I honestly thought you were a people person," I remark. "Especially considering the way you were chatting it up with all the guests earlier. You certainly fooled me."

"I don't mind people per se," he elaborates. "I just prefer them in smaller doses. Why do you think I spend my free time in my library instead of carousing in the taverns?"

That's true. And considering the immense size of the ever-growing collection that follows him wherever he goes, he probably does delve into his booklined sanctuary every chance he can get. Some might find such reclusive tendencies weird, but as a fellow library mole, I can relate. "I think I understand. Interacting with people can be exhausting. Sometimes, you just have to close everything off and process your own ideas and thoughts alone before you have enough energy to face other people and their demands."

"Or demanding situations," says Dryden meaningfully. He finally turns to face me. "Eries, about the other day, I'm really sorry --"

"Dryden, you don't --"

"Yes, I do," Dryden insists. "I made a complete ass of myself. Things were going out of control, and I took it out on you. It was completely unfair of me." Absolutely contrite, he hangs his head. "I blew it, and I'm sorry. Do your worst. I insist. I deserve it."

"In that case..." I fold my arms and look down haughtily at him. "You certainly did make an ass of yourself, and I could probably spend the rest of this evening enumerating your faults and shortcomings. However... Jichia in her munificence has found it fit to work circumstances out in Chezario to our benefit. So I guess that means she does like you as you claim, and that being the case, I shouldn't give you a hard time. So how about we stop dwelling on this and move on?"

Dryden looks up hopefully. "You're not mad?"

"I can't say I wasn't upset earlier," I admit. "But I understand, and I've gotten over it."

Relief fills his eyes, and I'm abruptly caught up in his arms. "Thank you, Eries. You don't realize what that means to me. I really thought I'd screwed things up for good between us," he gushes.

I gasp, taken aback by the sudden gesture. Physical displays of affection were infrequent in my childhood, and practically ceased after my mother died. So it's strange to receive a hug so spontaneously. However, I realize that this behavior is normal between Dryden and his sisters, so I simply stand and pat his back awkwardly.

"Well," he declares brightly as he releases me, "I think I'm ready to celebrate now that I know that my stupidity hasn't caused my best ally to abandon me."

"So does that mean you're ready to go back?" I say, indicating the party below.

"Heck, no!" he exclaims, causing us both to laugh.

"Well, just because we're going to be unsociable doesn't mean we can't enjoy the best the Ball has to offer." I nod in the direction of a nearby stone bench.

Dryden's eyes nearly pop out of his head at the assortment from the dessert table sitting there. "Wow," he says with admiration in his voice. "You managed to sneak up here AND smuggle all that?! It was all I could do to get away from that crowd."

"Let me guess," I say, eying the large stain across his front. "You 'accidentally' spilled your drink, and ditched your guard when you supposedly went to change clothes."

"Close. I 'tripped' on the courtyard steps and knocked over my drink and my guard's," he explains as he helps himself to a blackberry tart. "I apologized of course and told him to go clean up while I went back to my room to change, and instead of going to my room where he could find me, I came up here to hide."

"Crude strategy," I remark critically. "Effective, I guess, but there's only so many times you can get away with that."

"Humph. And how did you manage to get up here?" he retorts.

I tell him.

Dryden lets out a low whistle. "Very clever. I'll have to remember that. I didn't think they taught things like that at Princess School."

"They don't. Though I didn't come up with it on my own either. It's something... Allen taught me. A long time ago." My earlier melancholy returns with a rush, and I have to make a concerted effort not to look in Allen's direction.

"I see," says Dryden neutrally. He sets down his dessert to look me up and down. "Well, even as good as your strategy is for escape, I'm still amazed you got out of there undetected."

"Because --?"

"You're hard to miss in that dress."

I'm suddenly painfully self-conscious. Certain that Dryden is going to start teasing me about my attire for the evening, I mumble, "This isn't exactly my usual style."

In keeping with its patriotic nature, I usually wear a conservative dress of blue and gold to the Dacian Ball. Most of those past dresses have led Alucier to tease me that I'm going to a summer ball and not a winter trip to the Floresta Mountains. One in particular caused Revius to salute me as the kingdom's very own walking, talking Asturian banner. This year though...

"Hariotte actually chose this for me," I say, hoping that mention of his sister will nip in the bud any snide remarks.

"Oh yeah, I remember her mentioning something about that."

The Ball is an event that Celena eagerly anticipated for weeks, and since her best friend was so excited about it, Hariotte couldn't help but get excited about it as well. However, Hariotte was 14, half a year shy of her debut into society, and therefore wouldn't be able to attend until next year. So when Celena asked me what I was wearing for the ball and I replied that I hadn't gotten anything and might just wear one of my old dresses to save myself the trouble of getting one, both girls practically begged me to let Hariotte pick out a dress for me. Although she couldn't go herself, Hariotte seemed to think it would be great fun to dress me up for the event and even insisted that she would give it to me as a gift. They were so eager, I couldn't say no and gave them my measurements. Hariotte had been sensible in everything else asked of her so I saw no reason to distrust her, especially since she would be shopping with Celena, and Celena knew my tastes very well.

I'm going to have to rethink what I trust those girls with.

It's not that the gown isn't well made; it's exquisitely tailored. I have to wonder at the trouble and expense involved in producing this kind of dress on such short notice. Costly silk fabric has been cut and sewn to fit me perfectly. It bears a minimum of the ornamentation and ruffles that I abhor, and the skirt is full and elegant without being bulky or restrictive, with the hem skimming just above the floor, exactly where I like it.

It's the red color that I'm not so thrilled about.

I haven't worn anything this colorful since the blindingly pink dresses I was forced to wear as a young teenager. Given a choice, I prefer not to stand out, and as such, dark, understated hues and patterns dominate my wardrobe. While this particular shade Hariotte chose for me is fortunately more regal than ostentatious, it doesn't exactly let me blend into the background either. I'm also less than delighted about the off the shoulder design and the way the bodice clings to my body like a second skin. To be fair, this dress is still probably one of the most conservative gowns at the Ball as the bodice covers my bosom entirely in contrast to some of the more provocative garments here. Certainly, Marlene and Millerna have both worn dresses more daring than this. But, baring neck and collarbones for all to see at a ball is a first for the Second Princess of Asturia.

"Hariotte was generous in giving it to me. She really didn't have to." She really really really didn't have to. I was shocked when the dress was delivered and reluctant to put it on. Unfortunately, I didn't have anything else prepared, and I didn't want to break Hariotte's heart by not accepting her gift so there was nothing left for me but to just wear it.

"No, she didn't. But she wanted to. My sister likes you, Eries, and this is her way of showing it." Instead of the teasing I had anticipated, he nods approvingly. "Hariotte has a really good eye for color actually, and it looks like she was dead on with choosing this for you. I know I neglected to say this earlier, but you do look lovely tonight, Eries."

I'm taken aback by his words. His compliments are a sharp contrast to the other reactions I've received this evening. When Revius saw me, he'd whistled and leered exaggeratedly to which I responded with an elbow in the stomach. Seclas, Allen, and Father, on the other hand, hadn't remarked on my attire at all. Seclas just gave me his usual salute, which I suspect is what he would do even if he saw me in a handmaiden's uniform. Allen barely took the time to greet me and kiss my hand before hurrying back to play Celena's watchdog. As for Father, he was too preoccupied preparing for his speech and arguing with his doctors to take note of what I was wearing. I find it strange that Dryden would be the one to say nice things about my appearance.

_He's probably just saying it to make me feel better_, I rationalize.

Out loud, I say, "Thank you. Although you probably won't see me wearing this again."

"Why not? I think it suits you just fine."

I fidget with the ends of the long white gloves I've put on as a substitute for the long sleeves I'm used to. "I don't. Hariotte meant well, but it's a bit too showy and bright."

"Not compared to 99 percent of Millerna's closet."

I shake my head. "Millerna's Millerna, and I'm me, and this is not... me."

Dryden tsks. "Whether or not you think it's you, you still look smashing. You should give it a chance. You should give yourself a chance. You're an attractive woman, Eries, and you shouldn't go to such lengths to hide it."

I feel my cheeks warm. The world of a princess involves exposure to a much higher percentage of toadies and sycophants than the average person. As such, I've experienced flattery of all kinds and learned to recognize empty words for what they are. Dryden, however, speaks so honestly, it's difficult for me to interpret his words as anything but genuine.

He turns and gestures towards the party below. "If you walked down there right now with the kind of confidence you show on the Council floor, you could really give Celena a run for her money in terms of drawing attention. In fact, I could escort you down there right now, if you like." He leans over to give me a roguish wink. "Care for a dance, my lady?"

If I wasn't blushing before, I am now. I honestly can't tell if he's serious or joking now. I settle for giggling nervously. "I honestly doubt that. Besides, Celena lives for the attention. I, on the other hand..." I shrug. "There's a reason why I am up here instead of down there."

"True, true. My bad," Dryden apologizes, sheepishly running his hand through his hair. "I guess I should know better, considering I'm hiding from the same crowds you're trying to get away from. So, since you are obviously not enthralled with this party in your family's honor, where would you rather be instead?"

I'm grateful for the quick change in subject and answer without hesitation. "In Egzardia, meeting with Dr. Atrineu at his school of psychology."

"Ah, so you're into shrinky stuff, eh? Go figure. I'll bet you're as obsessed with the human mind as Millerna is with the human body."

"I need some way to keep an advantage on the Council," I sniff. "The cronyism there doesn't exactly work in my favor, and if _Treatise on Thought, Analysis, and Emotion in Decision-making _will give me an edge, I'm using it."

Dryden chuckles. "Indeed. That does sound like an intriguing book though. I should probably look it up. I've a feeling it's completely different from the mandatory Council preparatory reading my old man sent me."

"And what might that be?" I ask, curious to hear what kind of knowledge Meiden considered vital in the political sphere.

_"How to Lie with Statistics_," Dryden replies.

"You're kidding me."

He's not. In fact, he's absolutely serious. "And it's actually a quick and interesting read. I've a copy in my office if you'd like to borrow it."

"I think I'll take you up on that." Can't hurt to learn more about my political rival's strategies. "In that case, how about I loan you some of Dr. Artineu's articles?"

"Absolutely. I'm all for learning about intellectual theories, especially since it will probably help me appreciate even more the brilliance of my very own intellect."

"Ri-i-i-ght. Anyway, I've answered your question. Now it's your turn. Where would you rather be if not the fabulously exclusive Dacian Ball?"

"That's easy. Atlantis."

I laugh. "Well, I guess that shows how well I know you. I thought for certain you'd say your library."

"Well, Atlantis and my library aren't without their similarities. After all, my library is a place where my imagination can run rampant, and being in Atlantis was like stepping bodily into my own imagination..."

Time flies as we share confections and conversation on the roof. We talk about books, travel, philosophy, our likes and dislikes -- everything and anything that does not have to do with the tangled family situation that has consumed so much of our energy and efforts for the past months. Dryden's so engaging that before I know it church bells are chiming and the orchestra is striking up the opening strains of the Asturian anthem.

It's tradition on this national holiday to sing our country's song and raise a toast to king and kingdom at the hour of midnight. My voice and Dryden's blend in with those of the masses below, and our song fills the air in a roaring ocean of sound. My heart swells with pride knowing that citizens in homes and taverns and plazas all across the kingdom are doing the same.

The song ends with cheers and applause, and the people lift their glasses high for the customary midnight toast. Joyful shouts abound to the health of the royal family and to the prosperity and well-being of the country. Glasses clink, toast after toast is raised, and waiters bearing bottles of vino scurry about, striving to keep up with the celebration.

I find the glass of vino I smuggled up here and lift it up. I've been nursing it all night, but there's still more than enough left for a toast. "Well, we might be remiss in participating in these festivities supposedly in our family's honor, but we can at least partake in this. To the kingdom, to Father, and you, our hopefully soon to be former Prince Regent," I say, winking as I tilt my head back for a sip.

Dryden simply throws up his hands in response. "Looks like I'm going to be remiss in this as well. Unless maybe I can wring a few drops of vino out of my shirt for a toast --"

I kick him lightly in the shins. "Behave, you. Never let it be said that the Prince Regent was reduced to licking his shirt for the Dacian Midnight Toast. Here, just use this."

Dryden's a bit startled as I press my glass into his hands. He holds it tentatively as if he's unsure what to do with it.

After a few moments, I tease, "What's the matter? Don't tell me you're at a loss for what to say?"

Dryden shakes his head and looks at me distantly. "I was just thinking of something that Hitomi said once."

The Mystic Moon girl? My curiosity is piqued. "Oh? What was it she said?"

He swirls the remaining dark liquid in the glass. "She said that... in the country where she's from... if two people drink from the same cup, it's considered an indirect kiss."

I chuckle and shake my head. Hitomi Kanzaki was a real study in contradictions. There were moments during the Great War where she exhibited a maturity and wisdom far beyond her years. And then there were other moments where her lack of common sense was almost comical. "Now that's silly, even for a teenage girl. It makes you wonder what other kinds of nonsense they stuff into girls' heads on the Mystic Moon."

"Yeah. Really." An odd kind of half smile quirks up on his lips. He salutes me with his glass finally. "Cheers, Eries."


	5. Inflection

Inflection

Posted October 22, 2007

Dryden was right about_ How to Lie with Statistics._ It was a good read and a quick one, too. As for my reading recommendations to him, when I went to return his book and request the other titles he'd mentioned during the Dacian Ball, he'd handed back the psychology article I'd loaned him and asked where he could get Dr.Atrineu's latest publications. The next thing I knew, the two of us were trading reading material constantly.

I've never had a book swapping partner before, and I wish that I had befriended someone like Dryden sooner. It's great sharing resources like this. My familiarity with journal publications is leaps and bounds ahead of Dryden's, and there are foreign books in Dryden's private library that the Royal Library would never have bothered to procure. Plus, the notes scrawled in the margins of Dryden's books are an interesting read in of themselves, providing additional insight into the material presented and my friend's way of thinking.

It's also nice to be able to discuss my reading material with someone my own age without feeling like the "Weird One." Many subjects that interest me are esoteric by my other friends' standards so it's nice to have someone now with whom I can converse at breakfast about hereditary versus environmental impacts on human potential without having the discussion turned into a joke. Seclas, Revius, and Allen simply sit in silent incomprehension when the psychiatric/psychologic or economic terms start flying into the air. Perhaps it's inconsiderate of me and Dryden to have conversations that are so clearly over their heads at the breakfast table, but as far as I'm concerned, they can stand to broaden their horizons a bit. Besides, I've lost count of the number of debates regarding the minutiae and intricacies of guymelefs and swordplay I've had to endure in the company of my friends of the Blue and Gold.

I leave Father's room with my latest book, _A History of Usury, _in hand. I usually bring something to read when I see Father because, more often than not, I'm obliged to wait while he finishes up with another appointment, wakes up from a nap, or concludes a session with his doctors. Often, Meiden Fassa waits with me so that we can report on Council business together, and it has been rather amusing of late to watch the expressions he makes when he recognizes the titles of the books I read while we wait. Today, he actually inquired about my reading material, and I replied nonchalantly that my book was something I just picked up as if it were the latest popular romance novel and not an obscure but surprisingly engaging text on the tangled origins of the financial system.

I smile to myself, wondering what Meiden would do if he knew that his son was passing to me, his political rival, all the tricks of his trade.

As I mount the stairs towards my room, I wonder if I'll have time to chat with Dryden tonight about the chapter I just finished. Judging from all the notes scribbled on those particular pages, the points presented made quite an impact on Dryden. He's supposed to come by my room tonight to pick up the girls' latest notes, and we've gotten into the habit of indulging in our book conversations after we finish discussing divorce business.

Frankly though, we might not have much to discuss; Celena had seemed rather glum when she passed the portfolio containing their latest report to me. Despite their continued efforts, nothing promising has surfaced, which means we remain stuck without anything to build on and unable to formulate a strategy. After the Dacian Ball crisis, everything sort of resettled into that uneasy status quo that we can't seem to get out of and we know can't last forever.

Much as I want Dryden's and Millerna's divorce to just finally be over and done with though, if I was completely honest, I would have to admit that part of me does wish for things to stay in this unsustainable present. The thought of screening Prince Consort candidates with the Council is enough to induce a migraine. And once the divorce proceedings are over, I don't know if I'll be able to maintain contact with Millerna. It was difficult when Marlene moved away to Freid, but at least we were able to visit occasionally and exchanged letters. I don't know if Millerna and I will be afforded those options if she is disowned from the House of Aston. And Dryden... chances are that he won't stay in Asturia once the divorce is made final. The last time he departed Asturia, I didn't so much miss him as wish he were around in person to convince Millerna that their marriage could work. This time however, I know that I will feel his absence much more keenly and not just because I won't be able to borrow books from him anymore --

"Princess Eries!"

Before I can even turn to respond to her call, Celena has grabbed my arm and is hauling me full speed down the hallway.

"Celena --" I gasp.

"We need to talk. Now. In private," Celena says urgently. She drags me the remaining distance to my room and shuts the door firmly behind us.

I'm startled speechless by Celena's abrupt behavior. She knows better than to go tearing about the palace like this. However, I also know she wouldn't act like this without a reason. From her agitated expression, something's undoubtably wrong so I simply take a seat on the divan and wait for her to say her piece.

Unfortunately, whatever is bothering her has her so upset that now that she has my full attention she's unable to start. She paces restlessly before me. Occasionally, she stops and opens her mouth as if to begin but then snaps it shut again and resumes pacing.

This isn't a good sign. I've never ever seen Celena so wound up as to be at a loss for words. I stand and grasp her hands in mine, halting her in her tracks. "It's all right, Celena. Whatever it is you have to say just go on and say it," I assure her.

Celena's large blue eyes meet mine, and she nods slowly. I sit her on the divan, and she takes a deep breath. "Brother and Dryden had a fight. It... was bad."

My brow furrows. "Celena, what happened?" Allen and Dryden are nowhere near the domain of being best friends, but the two of them have too many common interests to let their personal opinions of each other get out of hand.

Celena's words are slow and deliberate. "I was leaving the library when I saw Brother. I thought he was looking for me since we usually walk home together. I called out to him, but he didn't hear me. So I went after him, but he was walking so fast that by the time I caught up with him, he was already stepping into Dryden's office.

"I thought it was sort of weird that he was there. He doesn't usually report to Dryden. But I figured that he's a knight and Dryden's Prince Regent so they were probably taking care of some really random piece of business. I didn't think it would take too long so I decided to wait outside for him."

Celena nervously twists a ring on her finger. "I wasn't eavesdropping, I swear. I didn't mean to hear any of it, but as soon as I got close, I could hear Brother through the door.

"Brother was yelling. He was accusing Dryden of behaving inappropriately. He was going on and on about how gentlemen shouldn't jeopardize a lady's reputation but that Dryden was by doing... a bunch of things."

Celena's voice lowers to a hush. "When Brother finally stopped, Dryden said something to him, but his voice was so low I couldn't hear it. But whatever he said, it got Brother angry. Really angry. And so Brother said, 'Let me make myself clear, if you have any delusions of romancing her, you'd be well advised to rid yourself of them now. There's no way that you could ever be worthy of her attention --'"

"And then Dryden cut him off and told him, 'Oh, and I'm sure you'll be right there making sure that I don't even get the chance to try either, Allen Schezar.'"

I get it. That's why Celena's so upset. Allen's heavy-handed treatment with anything remotely resembling a prospective beau is nothing new, but if he's trying to snuff out a potential relationship with someone Celena is actually interested in...

"Celena, don't worry," I reassure her. "I'll talk to your brother. I know you probably think he's being intolerable, but he can't help himself. He thinks so much of you he probably can't imagine any man being worthy of you. Not to mention, Dryden's divorce isn't even public yet. But if your feelings for Dryden are mutual or if you think they might be --"

"What?!" Celena exclaims.

Judging from the dismayed look on her face, I must have overstepped my bounds. "It's just an offer, a suggestion," I say hastily. "I really think I can help convince Allen to allow you and Dryden to see each other, but that's only if you want me to help."

"No," says Celena emphatically, waving her hands about as if swatting at invisible cobwebs. "No, no, no, no, no."

It's my turn to be confused. "What?"

Celena slaps her forehead. With a frustrated sigh, she states simply and clearly, "Princess Eries, they weren't arguing about me."

I blink. Then what --?

"They were fighting over you."

I gape. The words that came out of her mouth sound so ridiculous I can't quite absorb them, let alone form any sort of response. Celena regards me with a mixture of weariness and sympathy. "Here, just let me finish, okay?"

I nod and listen. However, the more I hear, the more unbelievable her story sounds. "Dryden had been relatively quiet till he interrupted Brother. But once he started talking, he just lost it. 'Who do you think you are to say anything to me?' he said. 'If there's anyone who has been unworthy of a woman, it's you. All these years, Eries has done nothing but support you, defend you, and bail you out of trouble. My father and Aston had every intention to send you to rot in some cell the instant you came back from Zaibach. It's only because of her you weren't labeled a traitor. It's only because of her that you're considered a hero now. And what do you give her in return? Nothing.'

"'She loved you, Schezar. Despite what she says now, I suspect she still has lingering feelings for you. But all you've done is given her some song and dance about being just friends. Am I right? Am I right? And in the meantime, she's gets to see you dallying with her younger sister, Hitomi Kanzaki, and Jichia knows who else.'

"By this time, I can hear Dryden just fine because he's practically shouting. And he keeps going, 'But now that another man is on the scene, now that there is a serious contender, someone who's really interested in her, someone she might actually fall for, you act like you own her? Who made you her keeper? She's an intelligent adult, perfectly capable of making her own decisions, which is more than I can say for you. And she certainly doesn't need your protection. If she chooses to be with me, you'd have no claim and no right to raise an objection --'"

Celena breaks off abruptly. I wait for her to finish, both dying to know yet dreading to hear Allen's response.

"So... what did they say next?" I demand, when she fails to resume her narrative.

"They ... didn't." Her face reddens. "After Dryden said that, I heard things falling and breaking." A pause. "I think Brother hit Dryden."

Allen hit Dryden? I can't believe it. Allen takes his oath as a knight seriously, and for him to strike a liege...

Celena continues, "As soon as that started, I got scared. I ran and hid behind the drapes in the hall. Brother stormed out of there right afterwards, and after he left, I went to find you. I'm almost positive neither of them knew I was there."

Celena finishes, and the room falls into silence. What she's just told me is too much to comprehend. Dryden? Having feelings towards me? That can't be possible. But then... for Allen and Dryden to argue isn't so unbelievable, but for things to get so heated -- come to blows even...

"Celena," I finally say, "are you sure you heard them correctly?"

"Very sure."

"But that can't possibly be right," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "I mean, we're FRIENDS. And if Dryden were interested in anyone, I'd most certainly think it would be you. After all, the two of you always have such a good time together, and he seems so fond of you."

"Oh, Princess Eries," says Celena, in that tone reserved for the simple and especially dense. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you can be terribly oblivious about certain things. Dryden does like me, but he likes me like a younger sister. The way he treats me, it's the way he treats Hariotte.

"But the way he acts around you..." she pauses briefly and then says, "I've had my suspicions that he was starting to think of you as more than just a friend or colleague and what I heard tonight pretty much seals that."

"Celena!"

"It's true."

"What makes you so certain?" I protest. "I mean, yes, we have been spending more time together outside of business functions, but it's purely platonic. There's been nothing romantic --" My tongue trips over the word as I remember the midnight toast we shared at the Dacian Ball, but I quickly shrug off the memory and continue, "-- nothing romantic about our interactions."

"Are you so sure of that?"

"You know what Dryden is like. He's not shy about his feelings, and he hasn't been treating me like a love interest," I say, remembering how open Dryden had been about his affections for Millerna and professed them in the loudest and most outrageous means possible. "There hasn't been a confession of love, any gestures, oaths -- nothing like that."

Celena knows what I'm thinking and replies, "But that's because Dryden knows you're you, and not your sister. He knows better than to treat you the same."

The staunch certainty with which she delivers her response gives me pause. I pride myself on my ability to read people accurately and was so sure I knew exactly where things stood with Dryden, Allen, and Celena. But now ... I'm not sure what to believe anymore.

"So..." she ventures. "What are you going to do?"

I don't know. I don't understand what's happening, but I have to get to the bottom of this. "I need to talk to Dryden." I bolt to my feet, overtaken by a feeling of urgency.

However, I immediately stop, remembering Celena's description of the way Allen left Dryden's office. "Oh, but Allen..." If he was as furious as I thought, he could be getting himself into a heap of trouble...

"Don't worry about Brother." Celena steers me firmly towards the door. "I'm his sister; he's my headache, not yours."

I protest, "But you don't know how bad --"

"Oh yes, I do." She smiles. "I'm not deluded by notions of Brother's shining armor perfection any more than you are. That's why I didn't faint in shock when I heard all the things Dryden said. I know much more about Brother than he thinks I do. I have eyes and ears, you know. Plus, Revius and Gaddes have been telling me stories," she adds with a playful wink. "Don't worry, I'll drag Revius with me if I need to go to any of the rowdy neighborhoods to find Brother. Speaking of which, his shift is probably over now so I should go get him before he takes off for who knows where."

Celena tries to drag me forward, but I dig in my heels. There's one last thing I need to know before I leave. "Celena, why are you doing this?"

Celena grins. Not even bothering to be coy about it, she says "I like you. I like Dryden. And I think maybe you could be good for each other. Plus, this might just solve all our problems."

I am completely bemused by Celena's high spirits. While I appreciate Celena's sentiments, her optimism is absolutely perplexing. I can't see what any of this will do but make a complicated situation even more convoluted.

"Go already!" Celena gives me a playful shove. "You've an important meeting to get to."

Well, she is right in that sense. It's imperative that Dryden and I clear up matters. "Thank you, Celena." And with that, I leave with Celena waving me off enthusiastically.

* * *

By coincidence, I run into Dryden's rat assistant in the hallway that leads to Dryden's office. In his hands, the beastman holds chunks of ice wrapped in a linen dishtowel. He's so absorbed in muttering and whining woefully to himself, he's oblivious to my approach. From what Celena told me and Mr. Rat's anxious behavior, I've little doubt as to whom the ice is for and to what purpose. 

"That's for your master, isn't it?"

"P-princess Eries!" Mr. Rat just about has a heart attack at my sudden appearance.

"Here, since I have some business with Dryden anyway, let me take that to him for you." I pluck the bundle out of his hands. "And now that I've taken care of that for you, maybe you can do us a favor and make sure that we're not disturbed. You understand how irritating it is to be interrupted when you're discussing things of importance, don't you?"

The meek, little ratman has never been one to challenge his superiors, and he is all too willing to let the second princess of the kingdom take over his errand for him. He nods frantically and scurries off in a panic.

As I cross the remaining distance to Dryden's office, I'm confident Mr. Rat will do his job and Dryden and I will be able to speak without interruption. But as to what our conversation will entail... I hesitate before his door, but concern for Dryden and, admittedly, curiosity ultimately propel my hand to knock.

"Come in, come in," Dryden growls wearily from within.

I step into the office. Dryden's crouched beside his desk. The piles of paper, books, and knickknacks that normally occupy the surface of his desk have been strewn across the carpet. Among the objects scattered across the floor are the remains of Dryden's spectacles. The frame is bent and the lenses cracked. Dryden picks through the mess slowly with his left hand pressed to the side of his face. "Agh, this is going to take all night. Hand over the ice and run a message to Princess Eries, will you? Just tell her our meeting's canceled. And if you breathe a word of what I look like to her, I'll have your hide, Mr. Rat."

"I suppose I should be offended that you're mistaking me for Mr. Rat, but I'll forgive you since you don't have your glasses on."

"Eries!" Dryden's head jerks up, giving me a full view of the swelling and discoloration just below his left eye. He scrambles to his feet. "Eries, what are you doing here?"

I ignore his question and push him into his chair. "Sit," I command. " Put this on your face."

Dryden yelps as I press the icy bundle against his eye. "Ow, hey! Not so hard, that smarts!" He snatches it out of my hands to do it himself.

"Sorry."

"It's all right. I know you didn't mean to." Putting ice to face, he leans back in his chair. "Owowowowow aaaaah... ." The seat tilts until it's nearly horizontal, and the linen towel flops over his eyes. He sighs deeply. "That's better. Numb is good. Thanks for the ice."

"You're welcome."

After a minute of silence, he mumbles. "You don't appear to be terribly shocked to see me with a knot on my face."

"Well, let's just say you can save yourself the effort of coming up with an elaborate, fantastical excuse for how you got your injury," I say, pulling up a chair next to him. "I already know Allen's the cause. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details though."

"So I can be elaborately fantastical with the details?"

"I would prefer your honesty."

"Right. Honesty." He curses under his breath. "Stupid City of Intrigue. Can't a guy have a private brawl without the whole city knowing?"

"If it makes you feel better, Celena was my informant. She just happened to be outside your door at the right time by chance. As far as I know, she's the only one who knows besides us and Allen. She most certainly won't tell anyone else, and she's going after Allen to make sure he doesn't do anything rash while he's upset."

"Celena? Oh great." Dryden groans. "Getting pretty girls mad at me seems to come as naturally as breathing. She sent you here to chew me out, didn't she?"

"Actually," I say quietly, "she's on your side."

"Oh." A long moment passes. "So... you're not here to tear me apart?" he says cautiously.

"No, but we do need to talk."

Despite having said that, a long minute ticks by in awkward silence. Finally I venture, "Celena was here when the two of you were arguing. She didn't hear everything, but from what she did hear, she's under the impression that the two of you were fighting about me. Because you... you..."

"Because I'm in love with you?" His directness startles me to silence.

Dryden sits up, pulling the ice from his face, and leans forward in his seat. Folding his hands beneath his chin, he looks me square in the eye. "This isn't exactly how I imagined breaking the news to you, but yes, it's true.

"Eries, I've fallen for you."

He says it so casually I almost think he's joking. However, his gaze is steady and serious, and I'm the first to look away. "I don't... I don't know what to say..."

"It's all right. It's not as if I was quite sure what to make of it myself." He chuckles sadly. "When I caught myself starting to think of you more than just friends, I thought it was just a temporary state of mind. Like a bizarre sister-in-law complex or a strange sort of psychological emotional clingy rebound thing."

"But after a while it became clear the feeling wasn't a fleeting one," he continues. "I'll be completely frank. There's been no shortage of women in my life, before I was married or now, throwing themselves at my feet. But while I've been able to put those others out of my mind, somehow, for these last couple of months, my thoughts keep gravitating to you."

He smiles tentatively. "We click somehow, you and I. Even you can't deny it. I've always enjoyed your company, and your input, your support, and lately...part of me has been wondering if it can't turn into something more."

With anyone else, I'd merely be flattered by such sentiments. But this is Dryden. Dryden, the brother-in-law whom I had pushed on my sister. A complicated knot of unnamed emotion has taken up residence in my chest so that all I can manage is to sputter, "So were you ever... going to say anything? Tell me?"

"Well, I would have if it had been as simple as that." He runs a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "You're Millerna's sister. I'm a man yet to orchestrate a royal divorce. Not to mention," he adds irritably, "I've been finding the whole reverse Allen aspect of it rather irritating."

I blink. "'Reverse Allen?'"

"You know, the old song and dance between Allen and the Aston sisters. Except the other way around. Eries falls in love with Allen, Millerna falls in love with Allen. Dryden falls in love with Millerna, Dryden falls in love with Eries." He laughs bitterly, and it's a harsh sound. "All I need to do is say I once had an enormous crush on Marlene, and I'll complete the set."

Perhaps I should be offended at his words, but I'm not. It's the truth, and even I can appreciate the absurdity of it.

"But to be honest, I wasn't sure when, how, if I'd tell you." He sighs and slouches back in his seat with his ice. "Maybe there was never going to be a right time, and I'd just hide it forever. Though if Allen was starting to pick up on it, I must've been slipping. In that respect, maybe I should thank Schezar for pushing all this out into the open and getting it over with."

His tone softens, suddenly shy. "So... now that you know, what do you think? You haven't slapped me yet so I'm guessing you're not horrified about the concept?"

Horrified I'm not, but... "Dryden, I'm not sure if I can really answer. I mean, the way things have been..."

"Eries --"

"Dryden, you've been Meiden's son, my ally on the council, my brother-in-law -- technically you ARE still my brother-in-law... it's not like I've been at liberty to think of you..._that way _before."

"So I'm asking you now. Try it. Think of me _that way_."

I shake my head. I know that he and Millerna intend to do whatever it takes to separate, and it wasn't even an hour ago that I was ready to wholeheartedly supports Celena in pursuing a relationship with Dryden. But still... "I don't know if this is such a good idea..."

"Please. Forget everything else. Pretend there's nothing else," he prods gently.

"I don't know if I can." I can't believe I'm even considering this.

"Just try."

It's strange seeing him like this. In business and in politics, he arms himself with a veritable arsenal of justifications and grand gestures to forcefully advance his agendas. His wooing of Millerna had been no different with the selling of his fleet to save the Fanelian King and his leaving Palas to display his worthiness. This isn't quite the Dryden I'm used to.

I giggle nervously. "You're not presenting me with a detailed list of all your charms and qualities?"

"No," he replies seriously. "I don't need to. Because you already know them."

He's right. Through all the messiness of tangled family affairs, after all the things we've teamed up over and fought over, I know what kind of man he is. I think of the litany of attributes I used to recite to Millerna and consider them now in a different light.

So I try. I look at him, beyond the labels and titles, removed from state or family obligations, and try to see him for him.

His eyes gaze steadily at me. They're verdant, warm, and so hopeful. I feel like it's the first time I've really seen them. Then again, one doesn't usually go about staring into the eyes of her sister's husband_ that way_. For years, I've been beguiled by Allen's blue eyes, and now Dryden's green ones... they beckon me to give up that pursuit in exchange for something new.

He's such a contrast to Allen, my first love, my only love. I can't deny that some of Dryden's remarks about my relationship with Allen hurt. However, everything he said was true. Even I have to admit the futility of my romantic hopes with Allen. My experience with love has been very painful. I cherish my memories, but there is sadness and hurt mingled in all that. Allen never meant to hurt me. He never means to hurt anyone, but that hasn't meant my heart hasn't been left torn and bleeding from his decisions. And I realized it. I realized even as the wounds were being ripped open. But as much as I tried to tear free, I could never quite do it, and just found myself going back, doing the same thing over and over again.

But perhaps the reason I'd never broken free of that vicious cycle was because the struggle had always been about trying to pull away from something broken instead of striving towards something better.

And maybe... possibly... Dryden could be that something better.

I reach up to brush an errant strand of hair away from Dryden's face. His eyes close dreamily at my touch.

I'm fond of him. I respect him. We already share a friendship I treasure.

But is it possible to take the next step?

I withdraw my hand, and his eyelids flutter open. Then I see it. Perhaps it's always been there, but I just never noticed until now. Mingled with the warmth and hope in his eyes is the unmistakable glow of desire.

And unexpectedly, a thrill inside me responds to it. It's breathtaking... and terrifying.

In a flash, I'm on my feet. My heart is pounding. My thoughts are in a jumble. I'm little better than an inexperienced adolescent. "I'm sorry, Dryden. This is -- I just need a little time to think --" Stammering excuses, I rush for the door.

"Eries."

I halt, one hand on the doorknob. Despite the adrenaline flooding my veins, there's something in his voice that compels me to stay.

"Eries," he says softly, "I won't stop you if you want to go. But I hope you will at least consider me... give me a chance to be the one to make you happy."

My heart skips a beat at the sound of Dryden rising. I don't flee, but neither do I turn to face him. Dryden approaches to halt behind me, so close that I can feel his breath on my neck.

Next thing I know, I'm wrapped in his arms.

His embrace, this closeness... it's almost overwhelming. But there's something about his touch, so comforting and reassuring and undemanding, that all the anxieties inside me disappear.

I let go of the doorknob.

Leaning back, I allow myself to be held. His body presses against mine, and I'm more keenly aware of him than I've ever been -- the firmness of his long, lean frame, the scent of sandalwood on his skin and the aroma of spices that cling to his robes, the tickle of his soft brown hair against my cheek, the warmth of his breath in my ear.

He releases his hold and turns me gently around to face him. When my eyes meet his, the adoration I see sets my pulse racing again. Embarrassed, I duck my head down.

Dryden's fingers skim down my cheeks. "If this is too much for you, I'll stop," he murmurs.

The insane thing is that I don't want him to stop. "This is crazy. I must be mad to be considering -- to be doing this."

"Oh?" Dryden tilts my face up with his fingertips. "Well, then. The madness must be catching because, you see," he says huskily, leaning in closer, "I've gone absolutely, completely mad for you, Eries."

And with that, he captures my lips in his own.

Dryden is a master at the art of speaking. But with a single kiss, his feelings and longings are conveyed more eloquently than words could ever express. Every rational thought flies from my head. All I'm aware of is the intimate touch of his body against mine, and the swirl of feelings it arouses within.

My body responds to his, and my arms wrap around his waist of their own accord. He moans, deep in his throat, and draws me closer to deepen the kiss.

We finally part, breathless from the kiss and the emotion it's ignited. I gaze at him in silent amazement. And I wonder how Millerna could ever have refused him.

And I wonder if it would even be possible for me to resist him now.

Dryden rests his forehead against mine. "I meant it when I said I wanted to be the one to make you happy. So Eries, would you consider it? Do you think you could allow me to pursue you?"

I've spent so much of my life chasing after love, it's inconceivable to me that love would want to come after me. But I hear the emotion in his voice, see the pleading in his eyes, and I know that what he's offering is real and true.

I smile and shake my head. "I think maybe it's time I stopped running and let myself be caught."

* * *

Author's Notes: for those of you who are wondering, the last few pages more or less describe that dream that I had that inspired this fanfic. 

Next up: Thrive. A conversation about this latest turn of events takes place at the Schezar residence.


	6. Turbulence

Turbulence

Posted November 26, 2007

Early the next day, I go to the Schezar residence. Celena greets me at the door as if she has been expecting me. "Brother was being an absolute pain last night. Good thing Revius was with me otherwise I never would've gotten him home. He's already up though. Meditating in the sparring room."

I thank Celena and go alone to find him. For the sake of my friendship with Allen, what has to be said should be kept between him and me.

I can't hear anything but the sound of my own footsteps as I approach the door to the sparring room. I knock. When no reply is forthcoming, I say, "I'm coming in, Allen," and let myself in.

Allen's seated crosslegged on the bare wooden floor. His sword's in his lap, and he is facing out the large open windows. Or at least he is until he realizes who's come to see him. He starts and scrambles to his feet. "Eries!"

According to Revius, whom I saw briefly earlier, Allen had been an incoherent, drunken mess by the time they found him at Tuvello's last night. However, he's none the worse for wear from his drinking binge. Freshly shaved and dressed in training clothes with his hair pulled neatly behind him, he just looks a little fatigued. If I didn't know better, I would have guessed he merely had an extra long shift last night.

Then again, Allen always was good at masking his imperfections.

I close the door behind me. "We need to talk. About last ni--"

"I'm not going to apologize for what I did last night," Allen interrupts.

Allen's sudden statement takes me aback. "What?"

Sheathing his sword in his scabbard, he approaches to take me firmly by the shoulders. "Look, I don't know what Dryden said to you, but even though it's true I struck him last night, it's also true that he deserved it."

Aghast, I break free of Allen's grasp. "How can you say that?"

"Eries, I know this may be difficult for you to believe, but you need to trust me on this. Dryden... he doesn't have honorable intentions towards you. You probably haven't noticed, but you need to be careful around him. I want you to stay away from him, Eries."

"Allen --"

"I know you trust him because he's your brother-in-law. But if you're not careful, he's going to take advantage of you, and you're going to wind up in a compromising situation because of him --"

"And what if I want to wind up in a compromising situation with Dryden?" I fling back.

My retort leaves Allen speechless. When he finally recovers, his voice has an edge to it. "Eries, that's not funny. This isn't something I'm joking about."

"Neither am I," I counter.

Allen's eyes narrow. "Eries, what's going on?"

With a pertinacity honed from years of Council experience, I say, "Allen, if I choose to associate with Dryden, I will. And if he and I choose to take our relationship beyond mere friendship, that's a decision that the two of us make together. And we've already made it."

Judging from how this conversation's gone, I'm positive Allen won't take my announcement well. And he doesn't. He stares at me in disbelief. But disbelief is quickly replaced by anger. "What did he do to you?! He's manipulating you, isn't he?!" he bursts, seemingly ready to hunt Dryden down and run him through.

"Allen, he's done nothing of the sort! No one is manipulating anyone --"

"I don't believe it," he says stubbornly. "You've never shown interest in him before. You even said yourself years ago, things wouldn't work out between the two of you. It's the reason why you encouraged the match with Millerna in the first place!"

"That's because I didn't know him then. Honestly, I discounted him on the basis that he was Meiden's son, and I didn't give him a chance. But, I know better now, and he deserves a chance.

"_We_," I emphasize, "deserve a chance."

My efforts to reason with Allen go nowhere. He refuses to be convinced. "I cannot accept that. Eries, I won't allow you to make this mistake. Honestly, I thought you were more sensible."

His declaration strikes me as so ridiculous I can't hold back my laughter. After all the mistakes that Allen's made and all the times he's ignored my advice, he's now assuming the role of my counselor? Allen stares as if I've gone mad.

With an effort, I regain my composure and say, "And who are you to judge what's sensible and what's not?"

"I'm only trying to protect you from what you obviously don't realize is a very dangerous situation --"

"Brother, give it a rest! You're just being jealous, and it's getting to be a pain."

Allen's gaze and mine dart to the open window. On the patio outside is Celena seated on an iron wrought garden chair.

Allen storms to the window. "Celena, what do you think you're doing! How dare you eavesdrop on us!"

"Humph!" Celena huffs, her nose in the air. "I am NOT eavesdropping. I am merely getting ready to have a nice outdoor breakfast with Hariotte. You're the ones that are raising a racket loud enough for the entire house to hear."

Allen's face darkens a shade as she continues. "You might want to lower down your volume a notch because she's going to be here any minute, and it would be very rude if she heard you talking badly about her brother."

Allen glowers at her before reaching to pull the windows shut. However, Celena grabs one of the panels before he can close it. Matching him glare for glare, she hisses at him, "Listen, Brother. I didn't get a chance to tell you last night because you were in no condition to hear it, but I was there yesterday. Outside Dryden's office when you had your fight.

"And I heard EVERYTHING."

Allen blanches, but Celena goes on. "And you know what? Dryden is right about you and how you've treated Eries. You are a selfish jerk, and you need to grow up!

"Oh, and by the way, I told Eries everything I heard."

With that, Celena slams the window hard enough to rattle glass and stalks off.

The room is suddenly silent. Allen stands stunned, his hands still on the window frame.

Celena's words might as well have been a blow to the head. For me to reject his advice and his sister to have witnessed such an ugly moment, his whole world might as well be falling apart. Knowing that we won't get anywhere until he gets over his shock, I patiently wait for him to recover.

When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, "Is that true? That she overheard me and Dryden last night?"

"Everything up to the point where you apparently struck Dryden," I reply calmly.

He flinches at the mention of that. "And she told you --?"

"Everything she heard."

"Oh," he says in a small voice.

"Celena found me after you left Dryden's office," I continue. "She told me what happened, and then I went to see Dryden.

"We talked, and, well... In an odd way, Dryden's grateful to you. For bringing all this out into the open. And so am I."

"Are you in love with him?" he asks abruptly.

I'm startled by his brusqueness, but I respond, "I'm not sure yet. But... if I'm not, I don't think I'm far from it. He says he loves me, and I can't say I'm not attracted --"

"Well, since you've obviously made your decision, there isn't really much for me to say," says Allen crisply. "By your leave." Without sparing me another glance, he heads for the exit.

"Allen!"

I lunge after him and grab his arm before he can make it to the door. "Allen, wait. Please," I plead.

As much as Allen wants to retreat, there's no way he could outright ignore a lady's plea. It's against his nature. Unwillingly, he halts, his posture rigid and defensive.

He's being foolish. And difficult. But he's still one of my oldest and dearest friends, and more than anything, I want for him to be able to accept this new stage of my life. Somehow, I've got to make him understand.

I take a deep breath and begin softly. "Do you remember, Allen, that day in Marlene's villa? When you told me about you and Marlene? I think you know it was difficult for me to hear that the two of you had gotten so close. But I also wanted both of you to be happy so I tried to understand. You'd wanted me to understand then, didn't you?

"Well, that's what I'm asking from you now. As a friend. Maybe it's too much to expect you to be happy for me, but I want you to at least understand."

For a long time, we stand there motionless, my hand clinging to his sleeve. Then slowly, I feel the tension drain from his body.

His face still averted from mine, Allen sighs. "This... is a lot for me to take," he says unsteadily.

"I know."

"Celena called me selfish," he murmurs. "Is that what you think of me?"

I pause before answering. Despite all that is said about men being the "stronger sex," I learned a long time ago that the male ego is a delicate thing, and that Allen's is especially fragile. I could withhold the truth in an attempt to protect his feelings, but that would be harmful in the long run and unfair to me. I could also answer directly, but likely that would devastate him, vulnerable as he is now.

So instead of answering his question outright, I say, "Allen, you and I have been friends for a long, long time. But Dryden was right when he said that I loved you once. I did.

"But you... you couldn't return my love. You cared about me. You wanted to protect me. But you never loved me. There isn't space in your heart for that. Maybe it's enough for you to be my eternal protector, but it's not for me. I want more. I need more.

"And now Dryden is offering me that. He says he... loves me." I feel my face flushing at the memory of what transpired last night. "He's already dear to me and... I think we could be happy together. If it works out, it's something I want to share with my friends, and I'd hope all of them would celebrate it with me."

"And I do want to celebrate it with you, Eries. It's just... it's hard to let you go." Allen looks up with a mien not unlike that of an abandoned puppy.

I smile at him gently. "Allen, I'm not dying. I'm not even leaving Palas."

"I know, but a lot is going to change. And I don't want it to."

"Not even for the sake of my happiness?"

He looks away at that. When he speaks again, resignation and remorse tinge his words. "All these years, you've been here, you've done so for much for me, and you've been exactly what I needed when I needed it. And all this time, I assumed I gave you everything you needed, too.

"But I was wrong to assume that."

He sighs. "I'm sorry. It's just that... I guess I've relied on you so long I don't want to lose that. But Celena's right. I have been selfish. When I saw Dryden getting so much closer to you, I got jealous. We've been best friends for so long, I always assumed I would be the closest to you. But I haven't earned the right to hold that place in your life, have I?"

"Allen, you're still dear to me --"

"But not as dear as Dryden."

"No," I answer honestly, "But I've never been as dear to you as Marlene, either."

My words harbor no bitterness. Yet there's an underlying accusation to my reply, and it jolts Allen. "Touché. I deserved that."

As much as he didn't want to hear it, my message has gotten through. But more than that, I want him to be reconciled with the decision I've made. "Allen," I say reassuringly. "Just because Dryden will take priority in my life does not mean I no longer want a relationship with you. I still want for our friendship to continue.

"Provided, of course, you can play nice with Dryden."

Allen laughs. It's nothing more than a quick exhale of breath, but it's a good sign. "I'll do my best. But it will take some getting used to."

"I know."

Taking my hands in his, Allen faces me with an air of resignation. "Honestly, I wish you chose differently. Though chances are that there isn't any man I would have deemed worthy of you. But...I promise I'll stand by whatever you and Dryden decide. Because, Eries, you are definitely worth it."

I squeeze his hands back. "Thank you, Allen."

"And if he does anything to hurt you, he's a dead man."

There's irony somewhere in him saying that, but I let it go and simply appreciate Allen's particular devotion to me for what it is.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Allen, but I can guarantee you that won't be necessary," I say, as the memory of a particular pair of green eyes warms me from head to toe.

101010101

Now that things have been resolved with Allen, I feel at liberty to tell Celena what happened. But I have a feeling that the younger girl already has a pretty good idea of what happened between me and Dryden last night.

I find her in the kitchen where she's chatting with the maids about breakfast preparations. She jumps up at my approach. "Princess Eries! Is everything all right? Or do you need me to go knock some sense into Brother?" she says, raising a fist.

"No, no, that won't be necessary," I say waving my hands.

"So things are alright then?" Celena asks brightly.

"Well..." I look back in the direction of the sparring room. "I wouldn't exactly call Allen alright right now." Adjusting to change was always difficult for him. "He just needs some time to himself. I've given him a lot to think about. But he'll eventually come around. So let's not be too hard on him."

"If you say so. But if you need me to, I'm here for you!" she says, waving her fist in the air.

Despite myself, I laugh at her antics. "All right, all right. I appreciate that, but for now just settle down. You mentioned that Hariotte was going to be here, and when she arrives, there something very important the three of us need to discuss. Is there a place where we could speak privately?"

Celena's eyes glitter. "Of course," she says with barely concealed excitement. "I had a feeling you'd be staying around to breakfast with us so I've got a table set up for us in one of the parlors where no one will bother us."

On the way, she tilts her head with a puzzled look and then exclaims, "That's it! I thought that there was something different about you today, Princess Eries. You're not wearing your earcuffs!"

Automatically I run a finger along the ridge of an ear, which feels strangely bare without the accustomed weight of gold over it. "No, I'm not."

"I don't think I've ever seen you without them before."

I smile. "I felt I was due for a change." Many changes, in fact.

101010

Knight Caeli Sir Alucier Maerzen is an astute man. His reliance on glasses notwithstanding, there isn't much that escapes his gray eyes. It is a major reason why he is as good a swordsman as he is. It's also why the two of us get along as well as we do. And it's the number one reason why, in all the years that we've known each other, I've never been able to completely get away with anything without arousing his suspicion.

So I'm hardly surprised that within moments of disembarking his carriage, he hisses to me, "There's something going on, isn't it?"

"Whatever makes you say that?" I say coolly, keeping my gaze fixed forward as we follow Dryden and Millerna past the bustle of porters and luggage to the palace foyer.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that I've been stuck watching your sister the better part of the year in a foreign country with no solid return date because she's hiding from her husband and all of a sudden he shows up one day unexpectedly and within the span of two minutes she's all fired and ready to make the trip home with him?" he says in a rushed whisper.

When I don't reply, he says, "You know something, Eries. I saw the way the three of you looked at each other the moment Millerna and Dryden got out."

In response, I cock my head and regard him pleasantly as if he's simply shared some interesting anecdote about his Chezario sojourn. He sighs and mutters to himself, knowing that pressing me further will amount to nothing. I ignore him and focus on mentally recounting the strategy Celena and Hariotte prepped me on two hours ago. As much as I'd like to tell Alucier what has transpired, this is not the time or place. However, he'll be one of the first to find out, especially if he remains in the vicinity of the King's quarters.

We swiftly cross the palace grounds to the King's suite. Millerna's first matter of business, of course, is to see Father. And of course, Father's not alone in his suite when the three of us are ushered in. As Millerna makes her entrance, Meiden rises from his seat beside Father's chaise lounge to welcome back his long-absent daughter in law.

Several minutes pass in noisy greeting. As they hug, Millerna tells Father how much she's missed him and compliments him on how well he looks. Meanwhile, Father alternates between scolding her for being gone so long and showing off signs of his progress. As the effusive reunion takes place, I take a seat across Father's chair. Dryden remains standing by the door, leaning against the doorjamb, his arms folded loosely in front of his chest.

Once things have quieted down and Millerna is settled in a chair beside me, Meiden ventures, "It is so good to have you back, my dear. I imagine that you and Dryden had plenty to catch up on the journey back. So much has happened since you left."

Meiden doesn't know the half of it. "Yes, Meiden, we were able to catch up on a lot of things," Millerna replies.

"Wonderful, wonderful. So I'm sure you've heard all about how well things have been going in Asturia under Dryden's leadership, especially with the reconstruction projects. All the people are quite pleased with what their Prince Regent has done, I assure you. Not the least of which is completing the Cathedral renovations."

I know exactly where Meiden is headed with this. But what he doesn't realize is that his own schemes are about to be broadsided by ours.

"It's quite breathtaking," Meiden rhapsodizes. "And Dryden personally commissioned the sculptures. Absolutely gorgeous. And it will be so heartening to the populace when they see their Prince Regent and Crown Princess together at the opening ceremonies."

"Ah yes, about that, ... actually, Dryden and I have an announcement to make." Father and Meiden perk up expectantly as Millerna looks to Dryden who has stepped forward to stand beside her. "Dryden?"

Dryden smiles broadly at his cue and booms, "We're getting a divorce!"

The silence that follows is deafening.

Dryden continues exuding his indefatigable confidence. Millerna does her best to imitate him, but her nervous smile is threatening to wither under the frostiness that has invaded the room. All trace of the paternal warmth Father exhibited earlier is but a memory as he fixes the couple with a glare that could freeze an ocean. As for Meiden, he looks as if he's suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

Finally Father turns to Meiden. "There must be something wrong with my hearing, Meiden. I thought I just heard that son of yours say that they're getting a divorce."

Meiden responds by rushing out of his seat to grab Dryden by the arm. "Excuse me, Grava, Princesses, I need to have a word with my son. Alone," he says, dragging his still grinning son to Father's dressing room.

A furious whispered exchange between father and son initiates the moment the door closes. Meanwhile, silence reigns among the rest of us. Father continues glaring daggers at his errant youngest daughter, who fidgets uncomfortably with the lace on her dress. Because Father hasn't realized he also has an errant middle daughter, I have the luxury of focusing on the conversation in the next room. I can't make out their words, but Meiden's doing most of the talking, speaking in low, urgent tones.

Eventually, Dryden edges in his own words. He can't have uttered more than two sentences when his father interjects, "What!?" His shout is so loud and sudden, the three of us jump in our seats.

The door to the dressing room swings open, and Dryden saunters out casually. "As I was just telling Dad," he says, his demeanor calm and completely unruffled, "this isn't some kind of stunt for me to prove my love to Millerna like it was the last time. Our intentions are truly to divorce. For good." Behind him, Meiden staggers out, his expression pale and haggard. Dryden might as well have announced that the entire Fassa financial empire has fallen apart.

If possible, Father's disapproving glare upon Millerna intensifies. It's obvious whom he blames for the situation at hand. "Millerna. Did you really think that you could come home after being away for months abroad and expect us to accept this? You haven't even tried --"

"That's not true, Father!" Millerna's head snaps up. She forgets her timorousness to face Father directly. "We have tried. We both have. But I don't love Dryden. You told me that I'd learned to love him, but that hasn't happened."

"If you actually put some real effort into --"

"I'm sorry, but it's been years and we're both still miserable. That's the truth. So we're ending this."

Father's response is as cutting and unforgiving as a blade. "Listen, this isn't a game. You're a Crown Princess and your_ husband_," he emphasizes, "is the Prince Regent of a country. You're not the only ones involved."

"I know that, Father," replies Millerna soberly. "I know exactly what divorce means. But I feel strongly enough about this that I'm prepared to remove myself from succession and, if need be, this family to do it."

"Grava, Millerna, please," intervenes Meiden, attempting to play the role of the voice of reason. He turns to Millerna. "My dear, let's not speak or act hastily. Making a decision like this after being away for so long, that's hardly fair to Dryden, don't you think? He loves you, after all. He's been waiting for you all this time. I know that the only reason why he would even consider something like this is because he thinks he'll make you happy. Don't you think you should give things one more try before walking away from someone who feels so strongly for you?"

"Actually..." says Dryden. "We made the decision to divorce when I saw her in Chezario at the beginning of White. And while I still do care about Millerna, I don't love her. Not anymore.

"What are you talking about, boy?!" Meiden's face has now gone from white to purple, while Father's looks like he's suffering the onslaught of a violent migraine. "Of course you love her!"

Dryden shakes his head. "I was in love with her. But I gave it up. She's right, the situation got too painful. For both of us."

"But surely," insists Meiden desperately. "You loved her once, you can love her again. Especially if she's willing --"

"No," pronounces Dryden firmly. "Firstly, because I know it's futile. Millerna's not willing --"

"That doesn't matter," interrupts Father. "She's a Crown Princess, and she has duties and obligations to you and her station."

"So do those duties and obligations that we're beholden to require me to force myself into your daughter's bed? You as a devoted father would approve of that?" Dryden's words are acerbic, and Father has the decency to look away shamefaced. Meanwhile, the rest of us cringe silently at Dryden's bluntness.

Dryden surveys the room stonily and concludes, "I would hope not."

Clearing his throat, he resumes. "As I was saying, Millerna doesn't love me.

"And second of all, I'm in love with someone else."

Meiden explodes, "You're cheating on your wife?!!!" If I weren't so heavily invested in this situation, I might find his reaction amusing. Given the man's own dalliances, his accusation is less than convicting.

Dryden is unruffled by his father's outburst. "I wouldn't call it cheating. Especially since Millerna was the one to leave me, and I never even looked at anyone else before we made the decision to separate -- albeit unofficially. And it's not as if adultery has been committed."

Well, not technically anyway. He and I are starting to dance dangerously close to that line though. When Dryden saw me just before departing to bring Millerna home, he'd left my room with his robes considerably more rumpled than when he first came in. As for me, I'd had to choose my wardrobe carefully over the next few days to make sure that the collars were cut just right to hide the tiny, bite-sized bruises upon my neck.

Dryden's arguments have no effect but to make his father angrier. Meiden's fuming so furiously, I'm expecting steam to rise from his ears. "I married you to the most eligible woman in the entire kingdom, and you're leaving her for some wench!"

"Don't talk about her that way." Dryden speaks with restraint, but there's a dangerous edge to his voice. "Especially since she has every bit of merit as Millerna.

"And she also happens to be in this room right now."

Suddenly, all eyes in the room are upon me. My heart hammers wildly in my chest, and my collar feels as if it's choking me. However, I fix my gaze upon the man that I love and smoothly rise from my seat to take the hand he holds out to me.

Our fingers intertwine as Dryden announces, "Eries and I love one another. We want to get married."

I am grateful for the years that I've spent on the Council. If I hadn't had practice opposing two of the most powerful men in the kingdom, my legs might just give way beneath me. As it is, it's taking every iota of resolve for me to remain calm before the shock and disgust on Father's face.

"Are you serious?" says Father, his voice low and dangerous.

"Yes. Very." I respond without blinking an eye.

His look of disapproval deepens, and he growls, "Meiden, Dryden, if you'll excuse us, I would like to have a word with my daughters. Alone."

"That's fine by me," huffs Meiden. "It just so happens that I have some words I'd like to exchange with my son in private as well." There's barely enough time for me to squeeze Dryden's hand and him to wink back before Meiden rushes him out of the suite.

As soon as the Fassas exit, Father roars, "What the hell kind of stunt are you two girls trying to pull here? For Jichia's sake, are you trying to give me another stroke?!"

"Father, calm down --"

"Don't you 'Father, calm down' me, Millerna," he lashes out. "Do you realize what you're asking? Do you realize what it means to be disowned from a royal family?"

"I --"

"You'll be a disgrace! To this country! To this family! You'll ruin yourself!"

"I'm not ruining --"

"You never even gave Dryden a fair chance, girl! Gods, how can you expect to build something with someone when you're constantly running away!

"And you, Eries!" he says, turning on me. "How could you?! What is wrong with you!? I thought I could count on you to help them work things out. But for you to come between them? It's one thing to be opportunistic, but for you to sink so low as to try to profit from your sister's marital troubles like this?"

"Father, it's not like that!" Millerna cuts in. "No one is using anyone. I chose this. And Dryden isn't lying. He and Sister love each other!"

"Right, Millerna," sneers Father. "She loves Dryden. Just as for years she's protested that she and Allen Schezar were just friends."

My hands ball into fists. I feel myself bristling, but I check myself. Millerna and I want Father on our side, not to antagonize him further. "Do you want me to admit I felt something for Allen once?" I say testily. "Is that what will satisfy you? Fine. I did. I was in love with him. But he never returned it. You should know; you had enough people playing watchdog.

"But denying something that never amounted to anything is one thing. Openly professing my affection is completely different."

"Oh really?" Father replies sarcastically.

Father's insinuating manner is pushing me dangerously close to losing my temper. With an iciness befitting my Ice Princess nickname, I say, "Obviously, you're cognizant of our plans so why don't you just get straight to the point and tell us what you think we're up to?"

"I think that both of you are using that man in the worst way possible," Father accuses. "Millerna's abandoning him, and you're just jumping to take the Crown."

I have to wonder how badly he thinks of us to assume we'd be so heartlessly conniving. "And Dryden, what possible incentive does he have to go along with this scheme?"

"He doesn't," said Father with a touch less conviction in his voice. "But he's self-sacrificing enough to allow himself to be manipulated for the sake of love."

"And I'm coldhearted enough to not care whom I share my bed with as long as I get the Crown?" I ask archly.

"I don't think it's out of the realm of possibilities for you to use the marriage as a respectable front to hide a dalliance with that bastard Schezar."

His statement is so appalling I can't respond. Father, however, counters my dismay with scorn. "Don't give me that shocked look, Eries. Schezar's been your pet for years. You're not fooling anyone with those innocent breakfasts you'd been having in your room and those visits supposedly meant to help his sister. I don't know what kind of enticement you've offered for Dryden to turn a blind eye, but I know you drive a hard bargain."

"Is that what you think of me, Father?" I gasp, my voice barely above a whisper.

That gives him pause. "I don't want to think that of you," he says slowly. "But what am I supposed to believe? That you're really in love with Dryden? That sounds too convenient if you ask me."

It does sound too convenient. When I'd informed Celena and Hariotte of my new romance with Dryden, they'd laughed and congratulated each other. Apparently, they had hypothesized early in their research that the most expedient way for the divorce to take place was for me to marry Dryden and replace Millerna as Crown Princess, thereby eliminating the complications associated with removing Dryden from Asturia's succession. It looked neat and tidy on paper, but practically speaking, it was too audacious for them even to mention to us. But as my relationship with Dryden progressed, it had turned into a secret hope the two girls nursed. Apparently, much more discussion and care went into the selection of my Dacian Ball dress than I'd ever suspected.

However, despite the viability of this option, it still requires the approval of the King and the head of the Council. In other words, the blessing of our fathers. I'm certain that if we can convince Father that Meiden will follow suit. Convincing Father, however...

"Do you think I've forgotten how vehemently you opposed the suggestion of Dryden as a suitor when you were 15? Or how you supported Millerna's betrothal? You yourself thought they'd be more compatible than you and he could ever be."

"I did. We both did, Father. But we were both wrong."

Father looks away furiously at that, but I press on. "Look, I know you had the best of intentions for Millerna with this match. Things turned out for the best between Marlene and Mahad. You intended the same for Millerna and Dryden. But no matter how much you want the outcome to turn out the way you want, that's not happening."

"So now I'm supposed to accept this sudden change of heart? Your obsession with Schezar has somehow evaporated and you're now in love with a man you once rejected?"

"Can you please just consider the possibility I'm being honest about this?"

Father doesn't respond and continues staring fixedly at the bookshelf to his right. I go on, however, because he needs to hear this whether he wants to or not. "I did reject Dryden. But that was almost a decade ago. I wasn't interested in suitors then -- him or any other -- and I didn't know him either. All I knew was that he was Meiden's son and that was enough to warrant my prejudice.

"But..." I hesitate, wondering how much I should divulge. "I know him now. I've seen how he's handled himself -- in the Council, with the war, with Millerna. He's proven himself admirable in every way, and he's earned my trust -- which didn't happen overnight, I assure you. And when he told me he was in love with me --"

"What?!" Father's staring at me now. "Are you telling me that Dryden initiated this?!" Judging from the incredulity on his face, he's never even considered that possibility.

"I think you overestimated his attachment to me, Father," says Millerna quietly. "And underestimated Eries' and Dryden's ability to move on."

It is apparent that a number of Father's assumptions about the situation have been overturned. "Start from the beginning and tell me what happened," he says curtly. "And don't you leave anything out."

And so I relate to him the events of the past months, from Millerna's departure from Asturia to their decision to divorce to my collaboration with Dryden in her absence. Father listens attentively, interrupting only occasionally to verify my statements with Millerna.

When I conclude, Father closes his eyes, seemingly sinking into himself. "Do you realize what kind of scandal this will cause? A princess taking her sister's husband?"

"Better than word of a princess having an affair with her brother-in-law," I countered.

His eyes snap open. "You wouldn't --"

"I'm not promising anything." I say darkly. I don't think I'd go that far with Dryden technically still married to my sister, but at this point, I willing to say whatever it will take to convince him that Dryden and I are serious.

My statement takes him aback, and Millerna's pushes him even further. "As they say, Father, we can do this the nice, easy way or the hard way. Dryden will remain Prince Regent. Sister will replace me as his wife, and I will go my own way. But exactly how all this happens will depend entirely on you. You can cooperate with us, or we can turn the situation such that I couldn't stay in Asturia even if you wanted me to."

I'm not sure what options Millerna and Dryden discussed en route , but she speaks with such a steely certainty, I don't doubt they've anticipated every scenario, means, and option possible.

Father seems to realize this as well. He stares at his youngest as if looking at the face of a stranger before lowering his head in defeat. "You win. I can't believe you'd be so calculating as to have me switch one daughter for another like this."

It's disconcerting how quickly Father makes the switch from outraged monarch to aggrieved parent. But while he is a powerful state head, he's also an invalid. Drained physically and emotionally from our fight, he sags back against his cushions. With his ferocity gone, he's just an old ailing man.

"Father..." I began placatingly.

"Eries, do you know how much grief you could've saved all of us if you just agreed to marry Dryden in the first place!"

I'm not sure how to answer that, but Father doesn't give me a chance as he immediately turns on my sister. "And Millerna, leaving your title means leaving your family. You'll be turning your back on us for the rest of your life!" he remonstrates, his chest heaving.

"I'm sorry, Father," says Millerna, gentler now. "Eries and I love you. We know you meant the best for us. But even you have to admit, things can't stay the way you've arranged them, no matter how much you want it. Even though this change will be painful, we'll all be better for it in the end. Eries will be a better queen for Asturia and better wife for Dryden than I ever was. And unlike me, she'll be happy with him."

"And you'll expect that I'll be happy that I gave up one of my daughters for the greater good?" he says glumly.

"It's for my happiness as well," Millerna insists softly.

"And what about my happiness? I'm an old man. I can't bear the thought of never seeing you again."

"Father, who said anything about never seeing you again?" She smiles at Father's bemusement. "It's hard to believe that Meiden is your best friend if you don't realize that there are ways to get around the rules. Even if I'm banished from the kingdom, that doesn't mean goodbye forever. Especially if there are Fassas involved."

Father sighs deeply. He's played his last card, parental guilt, but has failed to dissuade us from our plans. "All right. I'm not making promises, but what would you have me do?"

1010101010

Author's Note: wow, that was difficult. First, I couldn't get Allen to open up, and then I couldn't get the Astons to shut up. But now that's done, yay!

By the way, thanks to everyone who left a review! They really do brighten my day and give me motivation for writing. Speaking of motivation for writing, I've a message for Aerika, whose writing inspired all this. Since we're heading into the Christmas season now (by the way, I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving and had lots to be grateful for! I know I did!), as a Christmas present to you, Aerika, I'd like to give you the opportunity to shape one of the scenes for the next chapter. E-mail me when you finish reading this message for details:-)

Merry Christmas everyone!

15


	7. Beginnings part I

Beginnings, part I

Posted January 4, 2008

"Is there any sign of him?"

"No, not yet. But we did say to meet at approximately midnight, and we're early. The bells haven't even chimed the hour yet."

"Well, that leaves us that much more time to say goodbye."

"Sister..."

I feel a sense of déjà vu. Then again, there are numerous parallels to this moment and the last time Millerna and I stood on this rickety dock. Millerna is draped in her dark cloak with her bags beside her, awaiting the arrival of the Moleman, who will guide her away from the capital. And here I am again, the sole witness to her departure.

But this time, I helped to orchestrate Millerna's escape. And this time, her leaving is not just to fulfill her own desire but to give me mine as well.

My eyes meet Millerna's lavender ones in the dim light. Though Millerna was the one who conceived and insisted upon this particular scheme, a pang of guilt still vibrates through my conscience. Once she leaves, a chain of events will irrevocably be set into motion, and there will be no turning back for any of us. She's told me time and again that she's prepared for the consequences, but that doesn't stop me from asking one last time, "Millerna, are you sure this is what you want to do? You can still back out. It's not like there aren't other options --"

"Sister..." Millerna's soft voice halts the flood of words spilling from my mouth. "For the last time, yes. Yes. This is what I want. This is for the best. This is what I choose."

She looks so composed and sounds so mature as she utters those words. It's such a contrast from the way she rushed headlong after Allen years before. I want to believe her. I do believe her. But...

I look down at the worn planks beneath my feet. This dock, located at the very rear of the palace, is the last thing condemned criminals see before they're shuttled out of the palace prison to their unsavory fates outside Palas, and it feels too much like Millerna is bound for a similar fate. "It's just... I can't help feeling like you're being sacrificed for the sake of my happiness."

"Not just your happiness," says Millerna. "Dryden's figures in there somewhere as well."

I blush, and Millerna notices the heightened color of my cheeks even in the semidarkness. She giggles. "If this is how the two of you react to one another, then it's definitely a good thing I'm getting out of the picture."

"Even if getting out of the picture means a convent in the Chatal Mountains?" I press.

Once the Moleman arrives in his boat, their destination will be the Alpon Convent. In Asturia, there are certain things even beyond the reach of the Crown, and amnesty for women at the seven Convents of Jichia is one of them. Society deems it a last resort measure for a woman in abusive or difficult circumstances. Once a woman steps within convent walls, she cannot be compelled to leave, whether by husband, father, or king. However, amnesty also means having to shed her identity and status and leaving all family, including children, behind. The convent offers protection but demands in return unconditional submission to the authority of the Mother Superior and Bishop as well as a life of dedication to Jichia and service to the poor and needy.

Though it has certain rewards, it is hardly a life of bliss, and as such, claiming amnesty is not done lightly. Unfortunately, for many cloistered within the convent walls, it was their circumstances and not their will that made the final decision. Asturians society is rife with tales of rebellious daughters and unloved wives being forced or coerced into taking up the robes of Jichia to suit the desires of others.

Millerna knows I'm thinking this and says, "There are worse places to be. Trust me, I've been there. And though being a nun in a convent might seem like a prison to some, I could use some peace and quiet and anonymity. Especially after these last few months."

"You don't think it's the least bit extreme? Not to mention overly melodramatic?"

"It does sound like something out of a sentimental romance, doesn't it?" Millerna muses. "Fleeing the world from failed love for the refuge of the convent. But we're royalty, and it's difficult for anything we do to not smack of drama. As for it being extreme..." Millerna shrugs. "That's what it takes to earn your freedom sometimes."

"A convent isn't exactly the first place that comes to mind when people think of freedom."

"No, it isn't. But for me, it will be. Believe me, Sister. Just think, I'll finally have the chance to directly help people and not be condemned for it." Millerna had been strategic in choosing Alpon for her refuge. The sisters of that particular convent ran a convalescent facility and an orphanage. "The Alpon Mother Superior isn't a fool. We met before when I helped her coordinate a Mission of Mercy to Freid. She knows what I can do medically, and she'll take advantage of it right away. And whether it's in the convalescent wards or in the orphans infirmary, I don't care as long as I'm helping them."

She speaks with such conviction, and her intentions are so noble. After the horrors she saw during Freid's destruction, our own difficulties after Zaibach's attack, and her travels since, I don't think she's making her decisions blindly. Save in one respect.

"That's not what I'm mainly concerned about. What worries me is whether or not you'll... be lonely."

"I'll be living in a dormitory with fifty other women and likely no privacy to speak of," she says lightly. "I'll have plenty of company."

"That's not what I mean."

"I know."

It's funny. The last time she stood here was because she was running after a man. Now she's running so that I can have the man she leaves behind. And while the sum total of her experiences with Allen and Dryden have left her disillusioned and unsatisfied, I can't imagine she's given up on love entirely. "For the last year you've been focused on ending your marriage, so I'd understand if you're not interested in a relationship now. But eventually..."

"Eventually, I will? Perhaps. We'll see."

Clasping her hands behind her back, she walks to the edge of the wooden platform to stare at the sky above. "The convent is strict, but it's not unreasonable. Every woman that walks through its doors is given two chances to leave, and I'll have my first chance seven years after I arrive."

"But seven years... in seven years you'll be --"

"Just one year older than you are now, Sister." She turns to look at me directly. "And I think by that time I will have a better perspective on love and a better idea of what I want for myself."

Lowering her gaze, she continues, "When I went after Allen that time, I thought that he was all I needed to be happy. When I married Dryden, I hoped his devotion would make me happy. But I've since realized that the responsibility of my happiness is none other than my own. It's unfair to make someone else responsible for it. And I won't be happy until I'm satisfied with the direction of my life and what I'm doing with it. That's something I have to do on my own, that no one else can do for me.

"At any rate, whatever I do, whether or not love factors into it, I want to do on my own terms. It has to be, or I won't be satisfied. I know that much. And I'll have the freedom to do that in seven years. Hardly anyone who goes to a convent ever leaves, and no one will be waiting for me to return. So when I get out, no one will notice. They'll be too busy gossiping about you, Dryden, and your children to spare a thought for me, and if my name does come up, it will just be as an obscure footnote in the House of Aston by then. In that sense, you're doing me a favor by shifting attention away from me."

"So," she says, looking up, "don't worry about me. You just concern yourself with Dryden."

She adds a wink as if she's giving me her blessing. Though she was the one to leave him, I still wonder if she's being completely honest with herself. A man isn't exactly the same as a garment or accessory to be passed back and forth between sisters. "So you're sure you're not angry with me? That I'm basically taking your husband?"

"Eries..." Millerna is somewhat exasperated that I see the need to belabor the point. "There's nothing to be upset over!"

"I just want to make sure."

"Yes! I'm sure. I have to admit it surprised me that you're the one that Dryden chose, but it didn't hurt. Well, not really," she amends. "But I can't really complain, can I? Especially considering how much I hurt him.

She fidgets with her gloves. "Though I could not return his feelings, I've always felt badly about it. The guiltier part of me feels that I'm getting my just desserts having to serve time under the Mother Superior. Dryden's always been kind to me and more than fair. He didn't deserve to be in such a wretched situation. I'm just glad things worked out as well as they have. I was really concerned that the divorce would break him emotionally, but I don't have to worry about that anymore. You've already made him happier than I ever have. Keep doing that and that's thanks enough for me."

"Gladly."

She studies me and remarks, "You really do love him, don't you?"

"It... " It's a bit strange squirming like a besotted teenager in front of my younger sister and soon-to-be ex-wife of my fiancé, but what I feel for Dryden is genuine and I want Millerna to be assured of it. " It took me by surprise, but once I realized it I couldn't deny my feelings for him."

She shakes her head. "I never would have paired you in a million years. After all, the two of you just seem so different."

"We have some very obvious differences, that's true. But we can understand and appreciate them. And when it comes to our core values and convictions, they're quite similar. We might go about things differently, but we ultimately hope for the same things. He makes me hopeful of the future. Not just ours together, but for Asturia and Gaea. Plus, he's smart and imaginative enough to keep things interesting."

"Interesting, huh? Dryden just about wore me out with his kind of interesting," Millerna confesses. "I guess everyone thought things would work out between us because we were both labeled as unconventional. The thing is though, I was always more baffled than compelled by his views of the world and -- well, you know how things turned out. But if you can handle it, all the better for the two of you. I think I'll like Dryden much more as a brother in law than a husband."

"Well, considering how things stand, I'm glad to hear that."

"Glad enough to make sure all my medical books get to Alpon?"

"The donation from the palace to the Alpon Convent Library is already packed and awaiting shipment. You just make sure you write the thank you note for the delivery, Sister-whatever-your-name-is-going-to-be. You'll be that much harder for us to track if you don't give us any hints as to your new identity."

"Don't worry, I won't forget. I just hope that the Mother Superior doesn't give me a really awful name. Some of the saints..." Millerna shudders in mock horror. "You have to wonder what their parents were thinking when they named them 'Gilgameshina' or 'Thortholemela'."

"It might make it easier for us to remember your new name," I tease.

"Very funny, Sister. Well, whatever my name is, be sure to watch for it on the roster if the Mother Superior requests permission for a Mission of Mercy. She's big on taking medical teams on disaster areas, and you can be sure I'll be out there given the chance."

"I'm sure Dryden's fleet will be right there alongside you ready to give you whatever you need."

"Oh, and don't forget to keep us in mind should the Council be in a benevolent mood. If you make a generous donation to the orphanage, it might just require your royal presence at a donation ceremony, and there's nothing to prevent us from randomly running into each other there."

"I'm sure I can come up with something, Sister Gilgameshina."

"Sister!" Millerna exclaims in mock admonishment.

As the two of us laugh, the waves gently lapping against the pier become more agitated. Down the canal, the light of a single skiff lantern has appeared and is bobbing steadily towards us.

"Mr. Mole's here," says Millerna, sober now. We turn to one another, realizing that the time for goodbye has finally come.

My chest tightens. Millerna's the only sister I have left, my last connection to the mother I only remember hazily now. So much of our past has been conflict. Her stubbornness and willfulness caused me no end of frustration. We fought more times than I can count, and nearly all my attempts to protect her from harm backfired. I failed miserably at trying to play the role of parent and adviser in her life, and at one point, the gulf between us yawned so wide, I thought I'd lost her for good.

But now, the both of us are older and a little wiser for it. I no longer view Millerna as a child but as my peer, and I am content to play no other role in her life than that of sister. And strangely enough, it is I that owe her a debt as she steps out into this new phase of her life.

I gaze at her face intently, trying to sear every feature into memory. And then I do something that I haven't done since Millerna was a toddler.

I kiss her gently on the cheek.

The unaccustomed gesture takes Millerna by surprise, but before she can say anything, I wrap her in an embrace. "Farewell, Millerna," I whisper, almost choked by emotion. "And remember that no matter what happens, I do love you."

Millerna's arms tighten around me. "I love you, too."

10101010

"Cheers!"

Crystal stemware clinks to an accompaniment of excited soprano squealing. My room hasn't had this many females in it at one time in a while.

Celena's mouth puckers a bit at her first taste of the golden effervescent drink. "What was it that you call this again, Princess Marquesita?"

"Just call me Sita. We're all friends here so you don't need to bother with the formalities. As for what you're drinking, that's champagne. The finest Egzardian champagne, I might add."

"It's really different than vino," says Celena, speaking between experimental sips from her glass. "Especially with all the bubbles. It's almost as if it bites back."

"You don't like it?"

"I never said that. I just said it's different. Actually, I think I could get used to it. Especially if I could try some more. Please, Sita?" Celena grins as she holds her drained glass out for more.

"Of course," replies Sita.

Celena gazes admiringly as Sita pours her a refill. When it comes to presence, my magnificent Egzardian friend has it in spades. From the I-want-to-be-just-like-her-when-I-grow-up look in Celena's eyes, I can tell that she's found a new idol to emulate.

As Sita tops off Celena's glass, she remarks, "When I packed this champagne, I can honestly say I hadn't the foggiest notion that I was going to use it to celebrate Eries' wedding. I brought it thinking I was going to use it to toast a promotion or somesuch for Alucier."

"Well, life is full of surprises, isn't it, Sita?" I say over my glass.

Everything had gone completely according to plan. A few days after Millerna's departure, the convent sent word the Crown Princess was renouncing her title, her marriage, and the world to take up the robes of Jichia. True to his promise, Father did not press the matter or otherwise try to coerce Millerna into returning. Meiden immediately put forth a proposal to maintain Dryden's status as heir to the throne, which Father supported. Of course, that necessitated a union between him and me, the remaining daughter of the Aston house, which I consented to. Though members of our families and select close friends knew better, we handled the matter in the council chambers with all the emotion of a business transaction. Millerna's and Dryden's failed marriage had caused enough gossip. Better to let the populace think that the Ice Princess of the kingdom was marrying the Prince Regent for reasons of politics and convenience than for word of a romance between the very married Prince Regent and his sister-in-law to get out and cause an additional stir.

Obviously, Millerna's abrupt departure precipitated the need for a speedy marriage, and preparations for my wedding were just as rushed as they had been for Millerna's. And as was the case for Millerna's wedding, the turnout of foreign dignitaries was anticipated to be very low; most would have had to hop onto a leviship the moment they read the official invitation to make it to the ceremony. I had little doubt that Chid, one of my few remaining blood relatives, would do just that to make it to the wedding.

Sita, however, would have had a bit more difficulty justifying such a hasty trip to her family and government. I considered giving her some kind of advance warning so that she could prepare accordingly, but that was risky, even through informal channels. Fortunately, Alucier, Sita's Asturian not-quite-love-interest, knowing how much it would mean to me to have her here for the occasion, took it upon himself to invite the Egzardian princess to come to Asturia for a special, mysterious, unnamed occasion. Though she wasn't able to guess what the "event" was, it was the first time in all their years of flirting that Alucier had initiated anything between them, and she could read between the lines to know that whatever it was happening in Asturia, it was going to be big and she would regret it if she missed it. So it was that her leviship arrived in Asturia three days after Millerna's renouncement was made public and a day after wedding invitations were issued.

I'm grateful for Alucier's thoughtful intervention. Despite the infrequency of our meetings, Sita is one of my closest friends. I'm especially glad she could be here tonight as her presence makes me feel Millerna's absence a little less keenly.

It's a tradition for the royal family to withdraw from all activity the day before a wedding. Practically speaking, it's a chance to recover from the chaos of preparations before the actual event takes place. However, Millerna cannot be with me for obvious reasons, and Chid, if he is en route, has yet to touch down in Palas. That leaves just me and Father, who still hasn't yet quite come to terms with all aspects of the plan we've concocted. We spent the morning and afternoon together reminiscing about family members long gone and wondering how Millerna was doing. My spirits were hardly uplifted by the time he went to bed. So it was a welcome change to gather with my friends tonight for a kind of merry slumber party in my room.

Of the three, Hariotte's the closest to being a relative. After tomorrow, we'll be sisters-in-law. But Celena and I have shared enough secrets and Sita and I have known each other long enough to merit their presence.

Sita flaunts some of that knowledge of my history as she says, "Well, the first surprise was learning that you were getting married. The second was finding out who the groom was. Not that I'm saying you're making a bad choice. From what I've seen, Dryden's a fine man and should make you a good partner. Especially with that wicked wit of his. But I had always thought that you and Allen would end up together."

"Why do you say that?" Celena asks eagerly. While she is aware of the general outline of my history with her brother, Allen and I haven't necessarily filled her in on all of the details, and of course it's the omitted bits that are the juiciest.

Sita's more than willing to fill in those blanks though. "They've known each other long enough --"

"As friends," I cut in.

"Oh, I remember more than just friendliness, especially on a certain visit to Egzardia," she drawls, all kinds of insinuations oozing from her voice. "Let's just say that a certain Asturian princess came with a certain blonde knight, and by the generosity of a certain Egzardian princess, the Asturian pair found themselves in a secluded beach cottage for a week. And that Egzardian princess remembers catching sight of those two guests walking arm in arm. And the outfit that the Asturian princess was wearing! Quite provocative --"

"It was not provocative --"

"Says the woman whose midriff hadn't seen the light of day before that moment or since."

"Sita, I was just, as they say, dressing as the natives do, with those clothes," I protest, though my explanation does nothing more than raise eyebrows all around. "And nothing happened between Allen and me on that trip. We were just friends, just the way Alucier and I are friends."

"I always wondered about you and him also."

I cringe. I can understand Sita's attraction to and fascination for my Caeli friend, but the very thought of anything remotely romantic between me and my big brother figure of nearly a decade is nothing short of nauseating. "Oh, please. That's just... wrong."

"Why? I know he's a little older than you, but that hasn't hurt him at all in the looks department. I mean, have you actually ever taken a good look at his ass --"

"No. I haven't. And I never will."

"That's too bad. Because it's quite the sexy --"

"You can have him."

"Don't mind if I do! I'll let Alucier know that you've given me permission!" Sita laughs. The two younger girls look on, fascinated that I'd even deign to such a conversation with someone I call a friend.

"But seriously," Sita says, once she's had her fill of laughter. "Considering the amount of time you've spent with those Caeli of yours, I thought you'd wind up for certain with Alucier or Allen at some point."

"But not Revius?"

"It'll take an honest to goodness miracle to make that one settle down."

All of us are familiar with the nocturnal habits of roguish Captain of the Palace Guard, and we laugh heartily together.

"Alright, alright, enough with embarrassing the bride. For now." Sita lifts her glass. "Here's to my wonderful friend Eries, Princess of Asturia. May she have years of happiness with the man lucky enough to capture her heart."

"Here, here!" We brandish our glasses in acknowledgment of the toast.

"Speaking of the groom, what's Dryden doing tonight?" Sita inquires. "Carousing through the streets in celebration?"

"It's a little bit difficult to do that out in the mountains, Sita." Given the particulars of their titles, Millerna and Dryden have to officially divorce tonight, and our wedding take place tomorrow in order for Dryden to legitimately maintain his Prince Regent status. Sita listens attentively as the girls and I explain the situation. "Right about this time, he should be handing the divorce papers to the Mother Superior to give to Millerna to sign," I conclude.

Sita frowns a bit as she mulls over what we've just told her. "It's rough for you, isn't it? Not having your sister here and knowing why."

"Why do you think I invited all of you here tonight?" I say with a small smile. "And I am glad the three of you could be here for me."

Sita's touched. She raises her glass again, more somberly this time. "Well, here's to Princess Millerna. She's a fine woman to be stepping aside like this for her sister. May she in turn receive happiness in her future wherever she may go."

"To Millerna," we chorus as our glasses clink.

With this toast, Celena finishes her second glass and reaches to the bottle for more. Apparently, she's decided she likes Egzardian champagne. As Celena pours herself a third drink, Hariotte holds out her glass for a refill as well.

I notice and intervene. "No, Hariotte. You're only fourteen, and we agreed that you'd only have one glass for tonight."

"Oh please," Hariotte pleads. "Just a little more. I'll be fifteen in two weeks, and besides tonight's a special occasion."

"The fact that it's a special occasion is the very reason why I'm not going to allow you to have any more, Hariotte. We're already bending the rules as it is giving you one glass. How would I be able to face your family if you showed up sick for the wedding because of this?"

"Well, I think Dryden would find it really really funny --" Celena begins.

"And Meiden would NOT. And neither would your mother. No more champagne. End of story. Just be grateful you got a taste."

Hariotte pouts. "But Eries..."

"If it makes you feel any better, Alucier is more than twice your age, and he can't afford to drink a drop."

Now everyone's intrigued. "Why not?" they ask in unison.

"Because Alucier's got almost no alcohol tolerance to speak of." As the words leave my mouth, I wonder if Alucier will consider my divulging this information to this particular group an unforgivable breach of confidence. "That one drink you had would have been more than enough to get him completely inebriated, Hariotte."

Hariotte regards her crystal flute with an expression of disbelief. "You've got to be joking."

"I'm perfectly serious. He could probably get drunk off a piece of liqueur candy."

"So that's why he always has water when we go out! Huh! And all this time, I've been buying those lines of his about being on duty and maintaining respectability and all that trash," Sita fumes.

"Actually, for him, that might not be too far off the mark. Alucier really really has no control over himself when he gets drunk, and he really might end up doing something to get himself dishonorably discharged from the Order if he had alcohol at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Oh? Sounds to me like mixing a little alcohol with Alucier would be loads of fun."

"I would strongly disagree with that. And I assure you that a sick Caeli is not a fun Caeli."

"Oh, I don't intend to get him wasted or into trouble. Just loosen him up a little. After all, as they say in my country --" Sita proceeds to rattle off an Egzardian phrase that I've become familiar with, having spent a considerable amount of time in the combined company of Sita and Revius. Loosely translated, it means, "When inhibitions fall, garments tend to also."

I sigh. Sita laughs. And Celena and Hariotte, who are both unfamiliar with the phrase and weak in foreign language skills, look on perplexed.

"What exactly does that mean, Sita?" Celena asks.

Sita's eyes twinkle mischievously. "Shall I enlighten the innocent ones, Eries?"

"No, you may not," I say adamantly.

"Awww... Eries, come on..." Celena whines.

"No, you're better off not knowing. And you," I say, glancing sharply at Sita, "will not in any way use the information you've just learned about Alucier to take unfair advantage of him."

"That depends on what you mean by 'unfair' advantage," purrs Sita.

"As for you, Hariotte, you've had your first and last glass of champagne for tonight. No means no. And Celena, don't you dare sneak her any sips."

"Eries..." Hariotte adds her voice to the whining.

"Oh, Eries, lighten up," says Sita. "Let the poor girl have some more. It's not like she has the chance to experience champagne of this caliber every day."

"Yeah, Eries!" Hariotte and Celena chime.

"Besides, it wouldn't be a real bachelorette party without at least one person getting thoroughly soused," Sita adds with a laugh.

"A real what party?" I say, confused.

"Bachelorette party." When comprehension fails to register on my face, she says, "That is what this is, isn't it?"

"No. At least I don't think so," I say slowly. "I'm not even sure what you're talking about."

Now it's Sita's turn to be baffled. "You don't --!? Then what did you invite us all here for then?" Now everyone in the room is blinking in bewilderment.

Obviously in the rush of messages, there was a misunderstanding. I quickly give Sita an abbreviated explanation of why I've invited the three of them over tonight. Sita's jaw goes slack as comprehension sinks in.

"Oh. Oh! So you spend the night before the wedding with your _family_?! Oh! You Asturians! Now it makes sense!" She doubles over to cackle wildly. "No wonder the poor darlings were so confused!"

I glance at the champagne flute in my hand. I should have suspected something the moment I entered the room. I had anticipated a quiet night of chatting with tea and dessert, and Sita had greeted me by popping open a bottle of fancy champagne when I walked through the door.

"So what exactly is this 'bachelorette party' that you thought it was going to be?" I ask, not certain if I really want to know the answer.

Sita wipes tears of mirth from her eyes and explains, "A bachelorette party is exactly what it sounds like. The bride and her closest female friends get together and celebrate her last night as an unmarried woman. So when Celena told me that you wanted the three of us to spend tonight with you here, I just assumed that that was what you had intended." She shakes her head and smiles apologetically at the younger girls. "I'm so sorry. You really had absolutely no idea of what I was talking about, did you?"

"And what exactly were you talking to them about, Sita?"

"When I say party, I mean PARTY. Which means loud music, dancing, alcohol, gambling, games, presents, a stripper or two --"

I choke on my drink, the contents spraying from my nose and mouth. Sita continues blithely along, ignoring my distress. "So when I asked Celena and Hariotte if they'd made arrangements for such entertainments, they were completely clueless. So I assumed that the two little fawns were too young to have attended one yet."

"Sita," I say, dabbing at my face with a napkin. "Please, please, please tell me you haven't hired someone to come here and take his clothes off in front of us." Decorum is of utmost importance in an Asturian royal wedding. Having a man expose himself in the bedroom of the bride the night before the wedding does not fit the bill.

"Would I do that to you?" replies Sita, all innocence.

_Yes. Yes, you would_, I think to myself.

Sita lays a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Eries. I know and understand you better than to do that. Besides, the venue you chose for your party isn't exactly conducive to that kind of entertainment. Most bachelorette parties take place in hotels or private rooms in taverns. It's a lot easier to get all the -- ahem -- rowdier elements there than it is to sneak them through the palace to the princess' chambers."

"Thank Jichia for that," I mutter. I make a mental note to feign illness should Sita ever invite me to a bachelorette party.

"Though it's not outside the realm of possibilities to get one of the guards in here --"

"That redheaded guard downstairs is pretty cute," speaks up Celena, a little too eagerly. "Maybe we could get him to --"

"No. No." I immediately put my foot down. "This is _my _room and_ my _-- apparently -- bachelorette party. I am the Second Princess of Asturia, and I _forbid _any man to strip and prance around in my presence."

"Unless it's Dryden," snickers Celena evilly.

Celena and Sita burst into uncontrolled, raucous laughter. Meanwhile it's a contest between me and Hariotte to see who can blush most furiously.

"Oh dear." Sita, in an uncharacteristic moment of compassion, has decided to take pity upon Hariotte, who is about to burst into a fiery ball of self mortification. "Celena, we should stop while we're ahead. We might traumatize your poor friend by talking about her brother so naughtily."

Celena, who has collapsed giggling into the sofa cushions, suddenly bolts upright. "Oh, that's right. That was really thoughtless of me. I'm sorry about that, Hariotte."

"That's all right, Celena," stutters Hariotte although her demeanor says otherwise. Though she is quite happy to celebrate her brother's marriage to me, there are certain images of him I'm positive she'd rather not picture.

"Alright, Celena, let's lay off tormenting these two like this. I know, let's break out the presents!"

"Presents?" I look on in confusion as my three friends pull out gaily wrapped boxes from their hiding place behind the skirt of a tablecloth. "But the wedding's not till tomorrow."

"But these aren't wedding gifts. Wedding gifts are for the bride and groom. Bachelorette gifts are especially for the bride from her friends," Sita explains with a saucy wink. "I figured that even if we couldn't have a wild, crazy party here, we could at least still enjoy some good alcohol and get you some nice gifts. There's typically a theme for the gifts, and I told Celena and Hariotte that our theme was going to be "something for the honeymoon."

Something for the honeymoon? Somehow, the phrase strikes a chord of dread in my heart. The packages set before me look innocuous enough in their floral patterned paper and ornate velvet bows, but the fact that Sita's influence may have affected the contents of each and every box makes me nervous.

I opt to open Hariotte's gift first. Of the three, she is the most reserved and least likely to get me something embarrassing. I tear off the wrapping and open the box. Nestled within layers of peach colored tissue paper, I find a length of sheer white fabric trimmed with lace.

"It's a négligée," stammers Hariotte as I lift the silky garment out of the box. "Since I had your measurements from the wedding gown fitting, I decided to have the seamstress make something for you. I hope you like it."

"It's absolutely lovely, Hariotte," I breathe. And it is. Elegant and simple with just enough trim to give it an aura of romance. And definitely more eye-catching than any loungewear I have in my closet.

"Very, very nice," admires Sita, as Celena whistles in appreciation. "Here, Eries. Try it on. Let's see you in it."

I oblige readily, slipping off my flannel robe and pulling on my new silken wrap for my friends to see. "It fits perfectly, Hariotte. Thank you," I say, giving the blushing girl a hug.

"You look smashing," says Celena. "I'm sure it'll knock Dryden's eyes out."

"I'll second that," says Sita. "By the way, Eries, Dryden will appreciate that négligée a lot more if you don't wear the nightgown underneath it!"

Hariotte makes a strangled noise, but I pretend not to hear my Egzardian friend's advice. "Moving right along," I say, reaching for my next present.

This one is from Celena. The box is heavy for its size, and I can't even guess as to what lies within. I untie the ribbon and tear off the paper with more than a little trepidation. Sweet as she is, her mischievous side can make her dangerously unpredictable at moments like this.

But to my surprise and relief, what I find when I remove the lid isn't some obscene object from the red light district but leather and parchment.

"Why, thank you, Celena!" I lift the handsome tome from the box. From the quality of the bindings, it's obviously old and expensive. I puzzle over the title stamped in large gilt letters. "The Kama Sutra. I don't think I've ever heard of this book before."

"The Kama Sutra?" Sita perks up instantly.

"Yes, it's a kind of... manual, and supposedly it's a piece of Mystic Moon literature," says Celena, smiling widely.

"Yes... I know. Wow, I've never seen a copy quite as impressive as this. Is this a special edition or something?" marvels Sita.

"It's an antique," Celena says proudly.

"Really? You don't say," says Sita.

"Have you read this before, Sita?" I ask, surprised she is familiar with Mystic Moon works.

"Yes, actually," she says, exchanging a glance with Celena.

"I didn't know you were fluent in ancient languages."

"I'm not. I read an Egzardian translation. And I'm assuming this is the Asturian translation, Celena?"

"Actually, it has the original text with the Asturian translation side-by-side so I'm sure that you and Dryden will have a great time reading it together on your honeymoon."

"How nice," I say, mildly surprised that Celena would settle for giving me and Dryden pleasure reading for a honeymoon gift.

"Although," says Sita, "while having the translated text is nice, it isn't all that critical. It's fairly self-explanatory, given all the illustrations it's got."

"That's true. And the quality of this book's color plates is really something to see, Eries. It's really a masterpiece in terms of the illustrations."

"Really?" I flip through the pages at Celena's prompting.

And slam the book shut almost immediately.

"What the hell is this?!"

As I gasp in horror, Sita nearly falls off the divan laughing. Meanwhile, Celena plucks the book off my lap and reads, "Introduction: this text, Kama Sutra, is an ancient work widely considered to be the standard work on love in Sanskrit literature. The Kama Sutra is attributed to Nandi the sacred bull, Shiva's doorkeeper, who was moved to sacred utterance by overhearing the lovemaking of the god and his wife Parvati and later recorded his utterances for the benefit of mankind."

Apparently, the bull had a lot to say on lovemaking given the thickness of the book and quantity of extremely graphic and detailed instructive illustrations I glimpsed within. Even the opening text has opposite it a picture of a man and woman naked and very obviously in a position of copulation. How Celena can read the page without blushing is beyond me. Hariotte, who is sitting beside Celena, takes one glance at that picture and instantly finds herself enthralled by the moldings on my ceiling.

I suppose Celena's little reading explains what the book is, but it doesn't explain how it got into my room. "Celena! Where -- where did you get this?!" I glance sharply at Sita, who I'm certain put Celena up to this.

Sita throws up her hands. "I had nothing to do with it. I swear," she gasps between giggles. "But I have to admit, I'm really impressed with your friend's resourcefulness. Where _did_ you get it? I wouldn't mind getting a copy for myself."

"Actually, I found it in the family library."

The response to her casually uttered statement is stares of sheer disbelief. "What?!" she snaps, annoyed.

"But... that's impossible..." I sputter. I can hardly imagine Encia Schezar, paragon of all that is good, decent, and proper, having such material under her roof.

"It's a Mystic Moon book, isn't it?" Celena says matter-of-factly. "And from what everyone says, my dad got everything he could that was Mystic Moon related. This is from his personal collection." To prove her point, she turns to the inside front cover.

There I find written, "Dear Princess Eries, Please enjoy reading this book with Dryden (in bed). Love, Celena." But just above the neatly penned words is an imprint of the Schezar family crest on the leather cover.

If my jaw dropped any further, it would dislocate. I've borrowed enough books from Allen to recognize it as legitimate. That doesn't mean I can readily accept it though. My head spins at the thought of Allen perusing such scandalous material in the privacy of his home.

"Does Allen know you've taken this gem from your family library?" Sita inquires, as if reading my thoughts.

"Sort of, but not really. I told him I wanted to give one of Dad's books to Dryden as a wedding present. Allen doesn't care much for that set of books and said I could take whatever I want it as long as it wasn't Dad's journal. So he knows I'm giving you a book, he just doesn't know which one."

Well, at least certain things in the world are still sacred and holy. For Allen to knowingly allow his innocent baby sister anywhere near borderline pornographic material would usher in the end of the world.

Celena, however, sounds anything but innocent as she continues, "But not to worry. We actually had two copies of it in Dad's collection so it's not like we'll miss anything. And I figured it would make a much better present than the fancy underwear I was going to give you, Eries."

"Oh yes, this will be much more useful for Eries," chimes Sita. "The first two chapters should be especially useful. I wouldn't recommend trying anything beyond Chapter 6 though. You'd need the flexibility of an acrobat to get into some of those positions --"

"I can't believe we're even having this conversation," I say icily, snatching the book away from Celena.

"But Eries, you're the one that's always saying that books can give you new perspectives on everything," Celena argues. "Why not sex?"

At mention of the word "sex," Hariotte squeaks and looks about ready to faint.

With all the dignity I can muster, I say, "In case you have forgotten, tomorrow this suite is going to be swarming with handmaidens preparing us for the wedding, and it will not do for the reputation of the Crown Princess of the country to have this_ material_ found here."

"If you're just going to throw it away, then give it back to me," says Celena as I drop the book back into its box and shove it as far back into my closet as possible. "It would be a waste to just toss out a literary treasure like that."

In response, I give Celena a glare that would freeze the entirety of the town harbor. Though I am at a complete loss as to what to do with her present, placing it back into her hands is out of the question. But the fact that she does still has another copy troubles me...

"Oh, don't worry, Celena. There's no way she would throw it away. She's just going to hide it until she and Dryden can read it in private," says Sita dryly.

Turning my back resolutely on the shameless duo, I declare, "I do believe I have one last present to open. Hariotte!" Snapping out of her abashed trance, Hariotte scurries to hand me the last present. I tear off the wrapping with a vengeance. Might as well get this over with.

I have every expectation that the gift will be as overt as Celena's (even more if possible). So it's a bit anticlimactic when I discover the contents to be perfume.

"Oooh!" exclaims Hariotte, with a bit more enthusiasm than necessary. I'm certain that she's as relieved as I am that the gift isn't something outrageous. She lifts one of the crystal cut bottles to admire. "Hey, I think this is one of the fragrances Father's outfit carries. If it is, it's the really, really, really good stuff."

"It probably is," says Sita, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I just went up and down the perfumers alley at the bazaar and picked out some perfumes I'd buy for myself. There's twelve different bottles there so hopefully out of those you'll find something you like, Eries."

"Why, thank you, Sita!" Knowing Sita's tastes, all the perfumes will fall into the category of the "good stuff."

As an added bonus, the perfumes do the trick in diverting everyone's attention away from Celena's present. Celena and Hariotte have gotten so excited as to start dabbing fragrances onto my wrist for me to sample. I'm touched by my friend's generosity as well as the fact that the box didn't contain anything embarrassing.

Or at least not obviously embarrassing. There is a folded note nestled among the bottles of perfume. I pluck it up and read silently to myself.

"Get used to wearing just this to bed. Clothes are overrated. He'll always appreciate the naked look most. XOXOXO Sita."

1010101

Author's note: many, many thanks to Aerika for her input and comments on this final chapter, which, as you can see, I haven't finished yet. I thought that it would end up being approximately 12 pages, and I already exceeded that amount halfway through (our guests at the bachelorette party ended up being a lot more chatty than I thought). So, as it has been awhile since I last posted, I figured I would just post the first section now, and hopefully it won't take me that much longer to finish the last section.


	8. Beginnings part 2

Beginnings, part II

posted January 26, 2008

As it turned out, it was Celena and not Hariotte that ended up being completely sick the next morning. I felt badly for my younger friend as she moaned and clutched her head beneath the covers. Unfortunately, she had no time to be ill as she was one of my bridal attendants. It was a queasy Celena that staggered to the dressing room to don her wedding outfit and get her hair and makeup done. Fortunately, Hariotte, who was also attending me for the wedding ceremony, was there to help Celena with her preparations and make sure that her unsteady friend showed up at the right place at the right time.

Allen would be appalled if he ever found out that his sister had drunk herself to such a condition before an event of this magnitude. However, it was not without its benefits. With her head pounding and her stomach churning, it was an uncharacteristically quiet, meek, docile Celena that simply did as she was told accompanying me to the wedding.

Aside from one hung over bridesmaid and a half hour delay to allow Chid to rush from his leviship to the cathedral for the ceremony, everything went as smoothly as silk. The weather was perfect, the people turned out in ecstatic droves, and no attacks were launched by hostile nations.

And best of all, the bride and groom were delighted with each other and more than eager to take their vows.

Having been pronounced husband and wife, Dryden and I board a gondola for a celebratory circuit around the city before returning to the palace for the wedding banquet. We smile and wave to the cheering crowds. The palace distributed flowers to the people prior to the ceremony, and spectators fling their blooms over the canal to cover us in a congratulatory shower of petals. My entire being is overflowing with joy and to have the entire city celebrating with us is taking me to new heights of giddiness.

"Happy?" Dryden asks as he snakes an arm around my waist. From the way he looks at me, I must be grinning like an idiot, but I don't care in the least.

"Quite," I reply. "Though I'll probably be combing flower petals out of my hair for the next few days." I flick a few of the aforementioned petals out of my veil.

Unlike my sisters, I chose not to wear the traditional Aston bridal headdress. In fact, I am not wearing any of the traditional royal wedding garb. It would have simplified the arrangements if I had, but given the circumstances of my union with Dryden, I anticipated enough comparisons being made between myself and Millerna without stepping out in the exact same attire she did. Not to mention, Marlene once compared the golden headpiece and heavy veil to wearing a large sackcloth on her head, and I knew that putting on the thing was just asking for a brutal headache on my wedding night.

So instead of the cumbersome antique piece, perched on my head is a delicately wrought golden tiara, studded with sapphires arranged in the shape of flowers. Attached to it is a short sheer piece of white tulle that flutters behind me in the blossom laden breeze. Hariotte had it made for me, and I'm grateful for her attention to both the style demanded by my station and my comfort.

Actually, my entire wedding ensemble, which amounts to a simplified and much more comfortable take on the traditional costume, was put together by Hariotte as a wedding present to me. The heavy shawl of blue and gold thread has been replaced by a stole of the same colors. While the cut of my dress is in the traditional pattern, it's made from a lighter fabric in a warmer hue (which Hariotte claims goes better with my complexion), and my skirts aren't nearly as bulky.

Dryden lifts a lock of my hair to his lips. "That's quite all right. I find you charming with flowers in your hair."

In response, I lean against him and savor his warmth and the cheers of the well-wishers. The throng's enthusiasm is almost overwhelming. "They're so happy for us," I marvel.

"Why shouldn't they be?"

"I just never expected such a positive response given... well... you know..."

While the arrangement caused some grumblings amongst the upper echelons and the Council, the common citizenry didn't have a bad thing to say about the royal family regarding the switch in princesses. Given its inauspicious beginning, it was a widely held belief that Dryden's marriage to Millerna was tainted with misfortune. The obvious strain between the royal couple only reinforced that view, and the prevailing sentiment was that their marriage was doomed to fail no matter what.

As for Millerna's retirement to convent life, it was deemed a fitting fate for the third Princess of Asturia. While everyone was charmed by Millerna's beauty, she had never quite captured popular opinion, especially given her reckless behavior before the war and recent long absence in Chezario, and she had long since alienated herself from the bluebloods of Asturia. So while some were sympathetic towards her, there was no outcry for the return of the Crown Princess. Dryden, on the other hand, had endeared himself to the people during his quest to make himself worthy of Millerna, and they were more than happy to have him maintain his status as heir apparent through me.

But the reception we receive as we cruise through Palas is so much more enthusiastic than anything I anticipated.

Dryden chuckles and tightens his grip on my hip. I can feel the heat from his hand practically burning through the fabric of my skirt and petticoat. "This may be simple of me, but happiness is contagious. No matter what the official word might be, I'm the happiest man on Gaea right now, and I think everyone knows it."

I don't know if Dryden is just saying that to butter up his newlywed bride, but amid the congratulatory shouts and applause, I eat up his words, every single one.

There is, however, one thought that prevents me from fully relishing the moment.

Dryden senses this and pulls a slip of paper from his vest to hand to me. "By the way, here are personal congratulations someone managed to sneak into my paperwork last night at the Chatal Mountains."

Unfolding the plain white stationery, I read:

"Eries and Dryden:

Jichia's favor be upon you on the day of your wedding. I wish the two of you every happiness in your marriage. Although I can't celebrate with you, know that I am rejoicing with all of my heart.

Love, Millerna

PS make sure those books get here soon. Alpon's convalescent home is about to undergo some major upgrades. Just you wait, the regimen here will be fit for a king by the time I'm through with it."

My heart aches the moment I recognize my sister's handwriting, but as I finish reading the message, that ache is gone, replaced by a fullness. I smile, tucking the note back into Dryden's pocket.

"Better?" He rubs the small of my back comfortingly with one hand even as he continues blowing kisses to the masses with the other.

"Yes."

"Good." As he replies, his hand on my back moves downward.

"Dryden..." I eye him suspiciously as his fingers fumble with the laces of my dress. "What exactly are you doing back there?"

He looks at me archly. "Just trying to figure out the fastest way to get this thing off of you."

"Getting ahead of yourself, aren't you? We're still in the middle of a parade."

"Doesn't hurt to scope things out early."

1010101

Dryden continues groping at my clothes even as we step out for our first dance. I protest that all eyes are on us, and that we shouldn't run the risk of my dress suddenly falling off my person in mid dance. Dryden, however, contends that his right hand is supposed to be back there anyway so why shouldn't he take advantage of the position. I huff that perhaps he should pay more attention to keeping in time with the orchestra as he is woefully off beat. He laughs, saying that moving in accordance with one's emotions is much more important than keeping in rhythm with the music, and dips me then and there.

Dryden... somehow he manages to turn a stately, traditional waltz into an exhilarating whirl. By the time we're done, I'm breathless from laughing and scolding at him, and it is apparent to everyone in the ballroom that the Prince Regent's relationship with his new bride will be markedly different than that with his previous wife.

Our guests applaud as he leads me towards the head table to meet our next dance partners. Father nods in acknowledgment to Dryden's bow, and with a kiss on my hand, Dryden goes to escort his mother down for their mother-son dance.

With a grunt, Father pushes himself out of his seat to standing position and takes my arm. As we shuffle slowly together, I whisper, "Are you ready for this, Father?"

With more sentiment than I thought possible, he replies, "I've been getting ready for this since the day you were born, Eries."

Prior to the wedding, Father's physical therapists and I instructed the orchestra director in no uncertain terms that it was imperative for the parents dance to be slow and short. Slow to allow Father at least the chance to keep up with the music, and short so as not to cause him the embarrassment of having to retire mid-dance.

However, Father has been working with his caretakers for weeks to prepare for this moment. From the determined fire in his eyes, I know that there is nothing that could compel Father to end this dance prematurely, even if it lasted ten minutes instead of two.

Still, I dance carefully. It's not so much me following Father's lead as it is a concerted effort to make sure he remains upright. I can honestly say that this is not how I imagined my father-daughter wedding dance to be like. Growing up, my father had always seemed somewhat larger than life -- so confident, vigorous, powerful. How could he not? My father is a king after all. I never imagined him to be the weaker one. But he is, as I look down on him gripping tightly to my arms for balance. And I am literally looking down on him, as Father's body has shrunk, hunched, and shriveled since his stroke.

But he still is the father that I love and respect. He may not be as hale as he once was, but he has astounded me with the way he has fought his infirmity. My heart swells with pride as he makes determined step followed by determined step in keeping with the tempo, and I'm infinitely grateful that we can share this dance together.

On impulse, I drop a kiss onto his bald pate, which elicits a collective sigh from our audience. Startled, Father blinks at me. Father has never been one for public displays of affection, but he is visibly misty eyed as he says gruffly, "Now what did you go and do that for, Eries? You made me lose count of the music."

"My apologies, Father. That was brash of me," I say impishly. "But surely you could allow the bride a few liberties on her wedding day."

He stops completely, then and there on the ballroom floor. Music forgotten, he murmurs, "You know, it truly is a miracle that I can be with you today. I -- I'd hoped that I'd be able to have this dance with each of you girls. But Marlene -- I'm not even sure she would have danced with me even if she had had a proper wedding. And after my stroke, I didn't think I'd last long enough to see you or Millerna married." He glances at Dryden as he strides past with Lady Fassa. "Things didn't exactly turn out the way that I had hoped. But it's obvious that the two of you are taken with each other. I know that you're in good hands with him, and that Asturia is in good hands with the two of you at the helm."

"Thank you, Father." I am fortunate indeed to have this moment, something that neither of my sisters was able to experience. We draw closer, and our dance turns into more of a gently swaying embrace.

At the music's conclusion, it's a significantly more maudlin king that I help back to his seat. Embarrassed as he is by his own show of emotion, he shoos me away as soon as we reach his attendants and tells me to go to my next dance partner. I oblige immediately, not wanting to make things more awkward for my teary eyed father than they already are.

Dryden has already taken the oldest of his sisters onto the dance floor for a spin. And spin she does, turning and turning until she shouts at her older brother in protest. From the carefree way Dryden romps them across the ballroom, it's obvious to all that the Fassa siblings enjoy a warm, easy-going relationship. Watching them almost makes me wish I had an older brother to whirl me about so playfully.

But I don't have a brother. I do, however, have a nephew.

I glance meaningfully at Chid, sitting a few seats away from me, and he rises readily for his turn to dance with the bride. There's a mix of reactions as he takes my arm. Some find the sight of us adorable, especially since he is small for his age and looks younger than his nine years. However, others gape and murmur behind their hands at his foreignness.

On another occasion, he might wear Asturian clothes, but as the occasion is a state as well as a family affair, he wears Freidan royal raiment as befitting the head of his nation. But in addition to his non-Asturian garb, there's not a wisp of hair on his head.

Chid began training at the monasteries two years earlier and participates in all of their regimens, including shaving his head. A completely bald child in exotic clothes is not a sight you see every day in Asturia.

However, he ignores the chatter and is all poise as we take the dance floor.

"Do you know the minuet, Chid?" I whisper, as it suddenly occurs to me that his schedule at the monastery might not allow for training of this nature.

"A little. Kaja taught me what he knew on the flight here."

His movements are less than polished, but as he has the excuse of being a child, it only makes him more endearing to our audience. As he leads me through the basic steps, I muse that perhaps it is fortuitous is that his appearance is so foreign to those watching us. For, if he looked more Asturian, their attention might be more strongly drawn to his uncanny resemblance to a certain Knight Caeli.

"Is there something wrong, Auntie?" Chid inquires, and I realize that I've been staring intently at him.

I flash a reassuring smile. "No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking... when I used to look at you, I couldn't help but always see your parents in you. Now when I look at you, I see you."

Though Chid will never fully understand the meaning behind my statement, my words are completely truthful. The very first time I laid eyes on him, all I could think of was the secret sin that Allen and Marlene shared. His very existence is a testament to the temptation my sister gave in to.

But over the years, in the few letters that we have exchanged and the reports I've received from Freid, Chid has grown in my eyes to become so much more than just Marlene's love child and Allen's regret. He has had to forsake childhood for the needs of his country, but he has done so with unswerving dedication to his people and the land that is his inheritance. If I needed further reminders of the person he has become, I needn't look further than the flowing robes, the shorn head, the skin tanned by the southern sun, the accented speech that obscure his Asturian origins. He is not just my nephew, but sovereign of another land and one that I am proud to claim ties to.

Chid turns introspective at my reply. At first his contemplative response puzzles me, until I remember that much of Chid's short life has wrapped around my brother-in-law's expectations and legacy. I imagine that most of his efforts are fueled by a desire to become every bit the Duke that Mahad was. Anything less might be construed as a shortcoming.

My hunch is confirmed when Chid asks with a slight quaver in his voice, "Does that bother you?"

"Not in the least. It means you're growing into your own unique person. As you should." I smile at him. "It's good to be inspired by your parents and the others that have come before you, but it is an even better thing to achieve the things that only you can, things that your predecessors never thought possible."

He brightens at that, and his smile warms my heart.

Our minuet concludes, and Chid escorts me back. We haven't even reached the head table when Dryden charges past for the next number with his second oldest sister in tow. He'll be preoccupied for some time as he still has two sisters and an assortment of female cousins and aunts clamoring for a dance. Meanwhile, I've already exhausted all of my male relatives. I'm about to turn to ask Chid if he might be game for a second dance when Meiden appears at my elbow.

"May I have the pleasure of this dance?"

I blink in surprise before taking his proffered hand. "Why, of course."

In all the years that I have known Meiden, I have seen him making his rounds at many a festival and ball, but I have never actually seen the man dance. So it's a bit of a surprise to me when the old merchant leads me through the steps of a passepied with the confidence and precision of a seasoned dancer.

"Do you find something surprising?" Meiden asks, with a smug look on his face.

"Well, considering this is the first time I've actually seen you deign to step upon a dance floor, I'm impressed by your skill," I reply honestly.

"Well, if one's goal is to attain certain standing in the world, there are certain niceties one is required to learn and execute, even if one doesn't particularly relish them. That is a view we both hold in common. From what I've seen, dancing isn't a particularly favorite activity of yours, but when the occasion demands it, you can perform admirably. Which is more than I can say for my son," he says, eyeing Dryden and his sister galumphing about without any attention to the proper movements at the other end of the dance floor.

"I think that his exuberance makes an admirable impression in a different sort of way, Meiden. Or rather I should say Father." The word "Father" comes off my tongue awkwardly, given that the man I am addressing has been a thorn in my political side over the past several years.

It is equally awkward for Meiden on the receiving end. "I guess you could call me that now, considering you've married my son," he says slowly. "However, although I'm sure my wife will be thrilled for you to call her "Mother," I think I'd prefer you continue to call me Meiden. Besides, it'll make things that much less confusing at the Council when both your father and I are present at the same time, Eries."

"As you wish, Meiden." It's a little strange hearing him say my name sans title, but it's much better than if he had insisted upon calling me "Daughter" and being called "Father."

Having determined how to address one another, I honestly expect for us to lapse into silence. After all, it's not as if Meiden and I seek one another's company socially. The vast majority of our interactions take place because of the Council or Council related business, and our topics of conversation generally follow along those lines. I'm at a loss as to what to say to the man in this kind of setting.

However, Meiden is not quite as tongue-tied as he begins without hesitation, "Eries, I know that we haven't always gotten along, but I hope that you will take me seriously when I tell you that I look forward to becoming a grandfather and expect for you and Dryden to make this happen sooner than later."

"I beg your pardon?" I stammer, flabbergasted to hear such words coming out of Meiden's mouth.

"I know it might seem a bit rude and intrusive of me, but succession of the kingdom aside, I want to experience the joy of being a grandparent while I still have the physical and mental capabilities to fully --"

"Meiden, you're in fine shape. I would hardly say you're ready to fall into your deathbed."

"For now. But we've got to face facts. I'm not getting any younger. Neither is Grava. I mean, just think of your poor father, my girl. I know that modern couples these days delay starting their families so that they can extend the honeymoon, as it were. But I'm certain your father and I are of one mind when I say that it is of the greatest importance to us that you and Dryden work on giving us that grandchild soon."

This is getting embarrassing. "Meiden, I --"

"You probably have concerns of losing time in the Council once you become a mother. But producing an heir is as much a duty as your Council responsibilities. And even should motherhood prevent you from participating as actively, you would still retain an influence on matters through Dryden. And perhaps you think that having children would cause you to lose standing among those of the Council, but I would argue that it should do the opposite --"

So it is that I am held captive for Meiden's exhortative speech for the speedy production of children as Dryden completes his dances with his sisters. As we dance past one another, he casts me sympathetic glances in response to my "help me" looks. Fortunately, the torment is limited to three dances. Dryden finishes dancing with his youngest sister, and the obligatory family dances conclude. The floor then opens for anyone who wants to dance, and rescue comes in the form of Lady Fassa and Alucier.

"Princess, would you allow an old guardian the pleasure of a dance with you?"

"Meiden, will you stop hogging our new daughter all to yourself and dance with your own wife for once?"

I'm more than happy to let them cut in, and Alucier quickly whisks me far and away from my new father-in-law. "Thank you, Alucier," I say gratefully.

"What's a princess' personal guard for if not keeping nuisances away?" He glances around to make sure that Meiden is well out of earshot and adds a low tone, "Even if it is her own father-in-law."

As flippantly as he says it, his job description is not too far off the mark. The original reason he was assigned to me years ago was to keep me as far and away from Allen Schezar as possible. However, he approached his assignment with more the attitude of a concerned older brother than an indifferent chaperone. He had the experience of six sisters after all. So while he did well to keep a careful eye on my movements with the object of my infatuation, he wasn't so strict as to cut off our interactions entirely. Absolute freedom was never a possibility under his watch, but he allowed me enough leeway to make my own decisions and my own mistakes. And for that, he earned my respect, trust, and friendship.

"What was he haranguing you about anyway?" he mutters. "It was pretty obvious to me and Sita that the conversation you were having was borderline painful."

I tell him. He laughs. "Well, that's what you get for marrying into that family. Get used to it."

"I see I'll get no sympathy from you on that matter."

"Did I not just come and rescue you from the dance of excruciation?"

"My apologies. I am so indebted to your service that we will name our firstborn after you. Even if it's a girl."

"Ha, the thing that you don't realize is that your new husband is sufficiently weird enough to think that Alucier would be a good name for a girl."

"Are you calling my husband and your one day to be king weird?"

"I call them as I see them, Eries. But he does also, so we're even there."

"So you approve of my new mate?"

"That's not my place as a lowly knight to say, Princess. Besides, you're already married so the point is moot."

Although the rush of wedding preparations prevented me from broaching this sooner, I've suspected that Alucier was somewhat hurt by the fact that he didn't find out about my involvement with Dryden until the two of us were announcing our engagement. From the tone he uses to respond, my suspicions are pretty much confirmed.

I suppose that I could blame it on the fact that Alucier was away in another country the entire time everything unfolded. However, that excuse seems somewhat hollow. Odd as it may be for a teenage girl to have a much older man as a confidant, Alucier played that role in my life for years. He knew every single detail of my wretched love life, was my sounding board when things got particularly messy, and never betrayed a single secret. Much as he complained about having to deal with the angst, I knew that he was honored that I entrusted him with so much.

And then, while he was away, I fell in love and pledged my love to someone without his even knowing.

I stare down at our feet. "Alucier... I want you to know, I didn't want you to find out about me and Dryden the way you did. It's not like I wanted to keep you in the dark. I wanted to tell you when I told Allen and Celena. But..."

"I know, Eries. I know." He sighs. "You don't have to explain. That was just me being irritated knowing that Celena knew everything before I knew anything. But it's not like you're beholden to getting my approval before you pick someone to spend the rest of your life with. Even if I think of you as a little sister and part of me feels entitled to having some say in the matter, I'm not.

"Alucier, you're more than just my guard --"

"-- and you're more than just my charge, yes, I know that. But I also know that you're a princess, and your life is a lot more complicated than a Dunhaven farm girl's. Don't beat yourself up over it. I'll get over it. Trust me. I've had enough of secret agendas and guilty looking princesses to last me for the rest of my life.

"But just so you know, if I had thought you were making a mistake with this marriage, I would have told you so before the wedding. In fact, I nearly did."

My head jerks up. "You thought I was making a mistake marrying Dryden?"

He nods. "On the surface, it just seemed as if you were getting the shaft, and your sister was getting off scot free. That might sound kind of weird to say about a convent, but you haven't heard all the harebrained schemes Millerna was plotting when she didn't realize I was listening in Chezario. But..."

"But?"

"But, I know how stubborn you are and how many marriage offers you've dodged. In fact, I remember the first time you deflected Dryden as a potential candidate way back when. It seemed strange for you to crumple so conveniently for your sister. And when you told me how everything was just for show and how you and Dryden really did want to be married, I squelched my initial reaction to question your honesty and, quite frankly, your sanity and just watched."

"And?"

"And to make a long story short, I decided that what you claimed was true. It helped that Celena filled me in on a lot of what I missed, but I could see it for myself as well. That no matter what the arrangement looks like on the surface, the two of you are serious about each other. Judging from some of the glaring contests I've seen between him and Allen, he's very serious about you. He's got baggage. That's for certain. Who wouldn't after the first marriage he had? But he's nowhere as bad as Allen in terms of how he's handling it. And it's not as if you don't have your own issues."

"Thanks a lot, Alucier," I grumble.

"Hey, I'm just being honest here. And I'm being honest also when I say I'm glad things have ended as well as they have, and I think the two of you will have a great life together."

Alucier's right. He's just a guard, and I don't need his approval. But that doesn't mean that I don't desire it. I squeeze his hand. "Thanks, Alucier. That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome. Just promise me one thing, Eries."

"Anything."

"Swear to me that when you have teenage children of your own not to saddle me with babysitting duty. Going through the angst of adolescence gets old after the third time."

I can't resist the urge to tease him. "But you're so good at it."

He responds with an overly aggrieved look. I laugh and say, "I'm just kidding, Alucier. Besides, with any luck, you'll be appointed to Head of the Caeli by then, and you won't have time for those kinds of pursuits."

"Now you're talking."

"Unless you've managed to marry into the Egzardian royal family before that."

"Not that again. How many times do I have to tell you that Sita and I are just friends..."

Our dance concludes just as we come alongside a squabbling pair. Somehow, it doesn't surprise me to see that the duo is Celena and Revius. From the sound of it, Celena has recovered sufficiently from her drinking binge to be vehemently offended by some unfavorable comparison her dance partner is making between her and her new idol Sita. I sigh, tilting my head in their direction. "I think we need to separate those two before they start a ballroom brawl."

Alucier gives me a dour look. "What did I say about babysitting duty?"

"You're not Head of the Order yet, Alucier. Besides, you won't be the only one subjected to attitude in the name of tranquility."

Alucier knows better than to defy a direct order. He deftly cuts in between the quarrelers. With a "You. Me. Dance. Now," I haul Revius in the direction opposite Alucier and his new partner.

"Smooth, real smooth, Princess," remarks Revius as Alucier dances off with Celena, still glaring daggers at Revius.

"Well, someone has to keep the peace around here. Though one would think you'd be capable of more than infantile provocation given your supposed age and rank."

"Humph. And here I was thinking you were pining for a dance with dashing me to reminisce upon your now gone unwed days as a tender, unfettered, unmarried maiden."

"As if."

He affects a long-suffering sigh. "So cruel you are, my Princess. But then again, even when you were available, you weren't."

Revius has never been privy to my thoughts and actions the way Alucier has. However, for all of his careless manner, he is quite perceptive. I can't imagine either Alucier or Allen sharing the sordid details of my family with him, but he seems all too aware of those secrets in the offhand observations he occasionally drops about me, my sisters, and a certain blonde knight.

But while he has used his knowledge as ammunition to irk me, he has never dropped a word maliciously. Not the morning that he walked into my room to find a very embarrassed Allen scandalously present. Not the time I played a role making good Allen's escape from the palace prison.

"Revius, you're a really good guy."

"My statement takes Revius aback, especially because it immediately follows a lewd observation Revius makes about the physical attributes of an especially well endowed noblewoman nearby.

However, Revius quickly recovers from my non sequitur complement and says, "Oh, so you just realized now what a wonderful person I am? I'm wounded, Princess."

"Well, you have to admit your particular brand of chivalry is rather... unorthodox."

"But it doesn't mean my pursuits aren't any less noble."

"Ri-i-i-ight."

Good old Revius. Rogue and wiseacre. Not exactly what you'd call reliable, but he's discreet. Mostly. And when the chips are down, he'll be there for you.

As soon as I conclude my dance with Revius, Seclas steps forward for a turn, and then he is followed by another one of his brethren in the blue and gold. Apparently, having begun the general dancing with two of the Heavenly Knights has given the rest of them the impression that I desire to dance with all of their number. That suits me just fine, as I am more familiar with them than I am with most of the noblemen here. Besides, Dryden is still dancing through his roster of female relatives. By the time I reach my eighth Caeli, I wonder if I am setting precedent for a new wedding tradition to be borne by the next Crown Princess.

And so I go, from the arms of one Heavenly Knight to the next until my eleventh Caeli, Sir Fortanen, is taking his leave, and the twelfth Caeli steps forward, holding out his hand.

"Congratulations on your wedding, Princess Eries," says Allen. Taking my hand, he bows and presses it to his lips, a gesture that sends more than half the women in the ballroom swooning.

I murmur my appreciation to his sentiments as he straightens, and with that, we begin our dance with a flourish.

Allen and I have danced so many times together, it's almost second nature. My steps match his automatically. I follow his lead without effort or hesitation. Dancing with together, our movements fall into long established, familiar patterns.

But this time, it is different.

We glide across the ballroom floor without exchanging a single word. It's not the first time we've danced without speaking; but it is the first time I've experienced such peace in the silence. When I was much younger, these were the moments where I agonized between revealing my feelings for him and maintaining the comfortable distance of friendship. As we grew older and our histories became more complex, other emotions crept in: jealousy, frustration, bitterness, regret. My heart filled to bursting with words, confessions, admonishments -- all at the tip of my tongue, but I could never voice them out loud.

But now everything that could or needed to be said has already been said, and there's nothing left to say.

I gaze into Allen's eyes, pieces of brilliant azure sky that I once lost myself in. However, the resentment and desire they once evoked no longer consumes me. And without the old tumult clawing my soul, I now see Allen, who was once so oblivious to my internal conflict, is struggling with his emotions for me.

He's doing his best to accept what is happening in my life, but a trace of that abandoned look remains. In the days after that conversation at his estate, Allen continued to interact with me as he ever did, but I did notice that he went out of his way to keep a wide berth if Dryden was around. As Alucier alluded earlier, things haven't completely settled between him and Dryden.

I feel for him. I truly do. But I cannot shape my life to cater to his needs. Not anymore. Because Allen is forever looking back, and with a perspective like that, it is impossible for me, or anyone else for that matter, to build a future with him.

The music comes to a close. Allen guides me to the edge of the ballroom where our dance ends. Bowing again, he takes my hand for a final kiss, but as he straightens, he doesn't release his hold. Gazing at me intently, he continues holding my hand as if letting go would cause me to disappear from sight completely.

"May I cut in?" Suddenly, Dryden's hands are my shoulders, and he's drawing me back against him. "I'd like to have a dance with my wife."

If anything was going to break Allen out of his reverie, that did it. Abruptly releasing me, he snaps to attention before Dryden. Congratulations are immediately offered, which Dryden accepts in clipped tones. The conversation is civil enough between the old rivals, but there's a distinct tension in the atmosphere, especially given the territorial way Dryden hovers over me.

At length, Allen breaks off glaring at my new husband to look down at me again. His expression softening, he murmurs, "Make her happy or I won't forgive you."

"I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't make her happy," replies Dryden evenly.

Dryden's response somehow satisfies Allen. Another bow and he takes his leave. As Allen disappears into the crowd, Dryden hugs me to his chest. "I hope you didn't think find that exchange overly barbaric."

I turn around in his arms to gaze up at him. I'm ready to berate him for acting so childishly when I've assured him over and over that there's nothing left of my old infatuation for Allen. But when I see the uncertainty in his eyes, I am reminded of how Allen has affected both Dryden's relationship with Millerna and with me and realize what seeing us together might do to his confidence. "Well, it wasn't the warmest conversation, but it was an improvement over punching one another in the face. So it's a step in the right direction. Especially since I like your face."

He touches the tip of his nose to mine. "Enough to dance with me?"

"Most definitely." And with that, Dryden gathers me into his arms and sweeps me onto the dance floor.

"So," says Dryden, drawing me closer than our waltz warrants, "have you had a dance with everyone you want or are required to?"

"I suppose, yes. Why?"

"Well, that being the case, I suggest the two of us beat a hasty retreat to indulge in more_ pleasurable_ activities." He emphasizes his words by moving his body suggestively against me.

"Dryden!" I scold in a shocked whisper. "Stop that!" My eyes start about frantically, but Dryden's scandalous behavior is apparent to no one but me.

"I'm afraid I can't stop," he whispers, nibbling on an earlobe. "Because you've already got me started."

Doing my best to ignore the shivers of pleasure the sensation sends down my spine, I hiss, "You realize that we'll be walking out in the middle of our own wedding party." Standard departure time for the bride and groom in Asturian high-class wedding banquets is midnight, and it's only ten o'clock.

"And since when has being the party celebrant stopped you from sneaking out?"

He has a point there. As I allow myself to be swayed by his proposition, he adds, "It's not as if we'll be offending hordes of international dignitaries. The only foreigners here are your nephew, who's probably ready for bed himself, and Princess Marquesita who, from what I gather, would probably tell us to hurry up and get on with it already. Everyone else is just the usual riffraff whom we usually try to avoid."

Suddenly, leaving the party seems the most obvious course of action.

When I don't respond right away, he mistakes my musings for indecision and says, "If it would make you feel better about it, we could just run out for a spell and then return to bid farewell to our guests."

"Oh, I don't think that will be possible, Dryden," I purr into his ear. "Once I get alone with you, you're not going to want to come back to this party."

In response, Dryden practically crushes me to his body. "That does it. We're leaving," he growls, his voice husky with impatience and need.

I laugh, giddy by his eagerness. "All right then. But it'll be a lot less conspicuous if we leave separately instead of together. I should be able to slip out of here within 10 minutes. Once you're sure I'm gone, find Hariotte and Celena and have them help you fake a wardrobe malfunction or something."

"Oh my. My poor sister will love that."

"So, I'll see you in our room in about 20 minutes?" I say, my own excitement mounting.

"Actually... could we meet in your old room?"

I blink. "If you like. Why?"

"Celena hinted to me that there was something hidden in your closet that I absolutely could not miss..."

Celena... what was that girl thinking?

When I realized Celena's gift for what it was, my first impulse was to toss it into the fireplace. The only thing that had stilled my hand was that the book, its embarrassing content notwithstanding, was indeed a bookbinding masterpiece. Destroying a tome of that quality bordered on sacrilegious for a bibliophile as myself, and I had decided to relegate it to the depths of my closet until I could think of a way to rid myself of it.

However, now, as heat rises in my body in response to Dryden's smoldering gaze, I think that perhaps maybe it's not such a bad idea to have a reference handy as we embark upon the mysteries of love on our wedding night.

But I won't give my friends the satisfaction of knowing so.

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Thanks to everyone for reading this story! It took me a little bit longer than I anticipated to finish off the story. I didn't plan on it, but almost all the characters ended up having a final appearance in "Beginnings." It ended up feeling very much like the closing credits of the final episode of Escaflowne where everyone watches Hitomi going back home. (Apparently this is a very Japanese sort of thing to do, judging from the few prime time Japanese shows I've managed to see.)

And I know I've said this over and over and over, but I am really grateful to Aerika for the inspiration her works have given me and for this opportunity to do a little something with the amazing characters and Escaverse that she has created. Hope that the father daughter wedding dance and the subsequent dances with the rest of Eries' men that you requested were to your liking.

And special thanks to everyone that left a review -- you don't know how much those mean to me!


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